


Keeper of the Crown

by lalunaticscribe



Series: Long Live the King [1]
Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: Deconstruction, Fisher King, Gen, Ghost Politics, On the nature of all things ghostly and ectoplasmic, Values Dissonance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-01
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-04 18:15:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3079973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lalunaticscribe/pseuds/lalunaticscribe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The humans have a saying, Your Majesty," Clockwork stated to the Sarcophagus. "'Can'st thou, O partial sleep! give thy repose/ to the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude/ And, in the calmest and most stillest night,/ With all appliances and means to boot,/ Deny it to a king? Then, happy low, lie down!/ Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown'."</p><p>AKA the fic where Pariah's deposal wasn't as straightforward as suggested, and plenty of Values Dissonance takes place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Forever Sleep

_**Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.  
– ** _ **King Henry IV, scene I.**

* * *

Within the anarchy of the Ghost Zone, sleeps Pariah's Keep. Though it, like all spectral immovables of the mutating world within emerald swirls and purple portals, remained upon an island of bedrock, an island it was in a miasma of green. No spirit ghosted near, and no ghost hovered; the remnants of a proud fortress eternally tinged a garnet colour of pigeon's blood was truly an island within an un-life. A raven cawed; green and black, the creatures made no sound save for the occasional warning to a passing spirit.

Here, the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep stays. Having trapped the King of all Ghosts for nigh on a few years, it remained as it were a decade prior when a prepubescent halfa self-christened Danny Phantom trapped its current occupant within. The solid stone had stood a ghost siege, centuries of incredible ectoplasmic power, and the powers and enchantments wrought within the very rock itself was meant to keep its occupant asleep, safe, and trapped.

The first crack had an effect not unlike a crack within a high-pressure cooker; a geyser of power had erupted within a world that, on comparison, was not unlike a stew of electrochemical imbalances maintained only by the graces of thermodynamics and the law of equilibrium.

Across the Ghost Zone, though, this geyser was followed or even heralded by an outpouring of dread, that even half-formed, no-shape spirits felt to flee for their afterlives. Older ghosts, who had experienced the ectoplasm-curdling fear years ago, had already made their head-starts for the nearest portals into the mortal world, the news that every ghost knew on some level already echoing into the deep emerald recesses of the ghosts' world.

One ghost appeared in Pariah's Keep. Shrouded in purple, Clockwork waited until the tall female ghost arrived, shrouded in a _peplos_ of gold and black specially made to accommodate her unique physique. On top of this ensemble she wore a gold helmet. The helmet did nothing to tame her wild pink hair, though.

“A Phrygian helmet?” Clockwork asked. “Very original, Pandora.”

The four-armed ghost crossed the lower set of her arms. “And you're back to a baby again.”

The cherubic face of Clockwork changed into a smirk as the Master of Time aged in a second. “My fashion is timeless. As you would know.”

“Of all the times for him to awaken,” Pandora commented, her voice deceptively light even as both ghosts kept their distance from the Sarcophagus. “So he will rampage, and destroy, and because of the curses of our betrayal, tragedy shall follow in his wake? What have we done, old ghost?”

“Nothing more, all-gifted one,” Clockwork replied. “Yet we must fashion another Sarcophagus, before the last King of all Ghosts awakens. It had long been decided, after all, that Pariah Dark must hold the Crown of Fire.”

“Since no one had wrested Crown and Ring from him, of course he would,” Pandora bitterly replied. “It took seven of us the first time; I crafted the box, Nocturne wove his enchantments, and you froze time, then the other four suffered great pain to imprison the unwilling king, such that the Ghost King would become a symbol instead of a living ghost. There has been no one else to even come close to his power for centuries, and the young changeling has time to grow into strength. I shall ask Nocturne to help me. Will you help me?”

“No.”

“... I don't understand,” Pandora echoed at last once a silence to stretch unto eternity passed. “Do you want him to curse the Ghost Zone and the human world? I thought we established that he was a better choice of monarch than the others before.”

Pandora and Clockwork paused to consider.

“Leviathan?” Clockwork suggested.

“Went on a mad rampage, killed by Aamon,” Pandora recounted. “Who was also a fruit-loop.”

“Who fell for Asmodeus who killed him,” Clockwork picked up, “and made herself the first Ghost Queen-”

“-who was then sabotaged by Mammon-”

“-who was _then_ eaten by Beelzebub, who then-”

“Anyway, Pariah did such a nice job of keeping order, we... maybe kind of screwed him up by keeping him as a literal figurehead for the millennia we forgot,” Pandora concluded, somewhat quiet.

The pair of ghosts shared a moment of silence.

“Nocturne... he did very good work,” Pandora related. “His Majesty did not seem to remember the monotony.”

“Yes,” Clockwork admitted, somewhat glumly. “The Crown and Ring cannot be destroyed. Neither you nor I, nor the ancient ghosts, can ever wear the crown. Therein lies the crux. I will maintain time here, and that is why I cannot help you.”

“Time... I will seek out Nocturne and more everlasting stone, then,” Pandora admitted. “We will build a second sarcophagus to contain His Majesty and the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep. It will buy another few thousand years of time, until the last King of all Ghosts passes away. And then we can worry about who will be the next King... the next Pariah.”

“Of course.”

Clockwork nodded as Pandora left, her footsteps echoing in silence, leaving the Master of Time to watch the Forever Sleep receptacle crack open. Aside from the special effects, the overall impression was, rather, like watching stone break down. It gave him a quiet to ponder, and think... and then Clockwork could only feel rather lonely.

“The humans have a saying, Your Majesty,” Clockwork stated to the Sarcophagus. “ _'Can'st thou, O partial sleep! give thy repose/ to the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude/ And, in the calmest and most stillest night,/ With all appliances and means to boot,/ Deny it to a king? Then, happy low, lie down!/ Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown_ '.”

The clock-sceptre changed into a wheel of fortune, one that Clockwork spun on his finger even as he aged into an old man. “I can't say I blame you... as the pariah of an anarchic world, you are necessary, though you are hated.”

The wheel continued to spin, and each time Clockwork spun it, again and again before the coloured wheel broke off of its axis, bouncing upon the stone floor... and remaining there, stuck in a crevice, between black and white.

 


	2. Danse macabre

The skies overhead Amity Park were surprisingly clement. This was surprising in the sense that Vortex regularly dropped by, and yet most of such supernatural phenomena not in line with the weather of the Midwestern United States as observed in Amity Park were usually, if not entirely, ascribed to the local ghost saviour. Currently, the very normal sky free of paranormal influence was turning from black to grey with the approach of dawn, and it was facing the wan sunlight that Danny Fenton awoke in the heart of Amity Park.

His teeth were chattering, and overnight frost had filmed on the window. Just beyond the window shimmered green light, the light of a ghost-shield that FentonWorks maintained almost religiously. Off the shield, his clock read backwards as 6:50 am.

“Three hours of sleep,” he moaned, kicking at damp sheets. “And ghosts are fleeing the Ghost Zone left, right and-”

“BEWARE!”

“-below,” Danny finished, watching the Box Ghost running outside of his room. Bubble wrap trailed in the Box Ghost's wake. “What a night... and I think the day's gonna be worse.”

The dread increased by tenfold when Danny dropped through the floor to the Fenton kitchen and was greeted by the day's breakfast of green ham and eggs. It reached a hundredfold when, after said breakfast, the basement laboratory and its resident otherworldly entrance was greeted with a spectral exodus the likes of which had not been seen since... well, a decade ago.

All manner of ghost and ghoul phased, flew and ran out through the portal, a million different shrieks at full volume echoing in the confines of the Fenton basement laboratory. What few human ghosts there were actively, the lesser spirits being blasted by the FentonWorks Anti-Creep Mode or keeping the doors open.

“Go, go, go!” Skulker was yelling at the top of his lungs, the hunter barely even acknowledging the local ghost defender's presence.

“What are all of you running from?!” Danny cut in.

“Pariah Dark,” Skulker huffed, not out of fear but merely from shouting to straggling spirits. “We're evacuating the Ghost Zone until a new Sarcophagus is built around the old one.”

“...what happened to the old one?” Danny swallowed.

“It's... breaking,” Skulker's expression was revelatory. “The last time, you barely succeeded even with Plasmius and the Fright Knight. Now? We're just gonna hide out under rocks while Pandora builds the new sarcophagus.”

“I'm going to help out,” Danny snapped, rushing into the Portal and immersed into the Ghost Zone. “Whoa... rushing.”

* * *

While no trip to the Ghost Zone was ever completely safe, the spectral world this time, though empty, seemed filled with malice aforethought, or an inordinate hate of everything and everyone within the Ghost Zone. Pariah's Keep remained in the pride of place of the Fright Knight's lair, Walker's prison and Skulker's tropical-seeming island. Convincing the ghostly denizens of an entire world of ghosts had been a tier above, and yet now, Danny remained unsure of his ability to take on the fearsome Ghost King that everyone had avoided like Ecto-Acne.

Floating past the remains of a decade ago, Danny shuddered. Past hallways of ugly portraits with the paint so faded and covered in dust as to be unrecognisable, past suits of armour that bore no polishing but rather the dry, rusty shade of old bloodstains, and towards the throne room where dwelt the Sarcophagus.

“Clockwork?” He recognised.

“Good morning, Daniel,” the Master of Time replied faintly, currently in an old man's form. “Pandora is fetching the everlasting stone to craft the new sarcophagus.”

“And you're...”

“Keeping an eye on things,” Clockwork indicated a crack that could be no longer than two inches, at most.

Danny shuddered. “If that's what's already out, I don't want to know how cheesed off Pariah Dark must be after I put him back.”

“I doubt it,” Clockwork commented. “Anger and Pariah Dark seems to be par for the course. Then again, Pariah Dark showed a certain... staidness, in comparison to the many ghost royalty that had ruled before.”

“Before...?” Danny echoed.

“You didn't really believe that Pariah Dark has been King of all Ghosts since time immemorial, did you?” Clockwork sounded amused. “Granted, it does feel like that sometimes. He would be in his terrible two thousands around now.”

“That sounds awfully old.” Danny scratched his face.

“What is old to you, Daniel, is a blink to a ghost like me,” Clockwork sighed. “If the Observants have their way, there would never be another Ghost King.”

Danny turned from the Master of Time, towards the cracking Sarcophagus. “Considering how Pariah was... yeah, I hope so.”

“You have never seen those before Pariah Dark,” Clockwork sardonically commented. “I remember the reign of Queen Asmodeus. She had new ghosts bled out for her bath every single day of her admittedly short reign. Or King Belphegor, who bled the coffers dry and then flayed the skin off of his treasurers. His Majesty Pariah Dark possesses a staidness compared to the capricious cruelty of former royalty.”

“' _Possesses_ '?” Danny echoed. “Present tense? He tried to take over our worlds!”

“Pariah Dark united the Ghost Zone you know today by the force of strength,” Clockwork answered distantly. “You must remember, your world offended him first by stealing one of two treasures of any value he had left, and then by not immediately returning it and further offending him. Your town got caught in the crossfire, rather than anything else.”

Danny swallowed, recalling the Ring of Rage and Vlad's theft of it plus the subsequent trouble. “He still overreacted.”

“So would you, if you had been unjustly trapped in a giant stone casket and forced into permanent sleep only to awake finding thieves in your home, stealing your treasures,” Clockwork sounded dry as the Sahara.

“But...” Danny paused. “... Skulker said that he was evil to begin with. That's why ancient ghosts teamed up to trap him into the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep.”

“Your human histories regard atrocities like Macbeth, Genghis Khan and Alexander the Great as either heroes or villains,” Clockwork acknowledged. “The trouble of history is, that when a tale is repeated too often, people will seize onto the obvious and refuse anything to the contrary of their impression. That rule applies to your human history; it too, shall apply to ghost history. Everything is as it had been; Pariah Dark was an awfully proud, egoistical ghost who believed in conquest. Yet, remember that he grew up in an age where war was glorious, plentiful, and necessary. Even now, his existence is necessary.”

“Why not just have a democracy?” Even as he spoke, Danny shook his head. “Never mind. I know the answer to that.”

“A bunch of arrogant, proud and obsessive loners with the power to use coercive means to reinforce their opinions, form a democracy?” Clockwork echoed.

“I _get_ it,” Danny growled. “Wouldn't work.”

“Humans believe that their luck turns once given the choice of their desires,” Clockwork reflected. “The same rule, while adjusted somewhat, applies for ghosts too. Then again, the Ghost Zone is the flip side of the coin where life and death rests back to back. Tell me; what do you see when faced with the Ghost King?”

“Huh?” Danny echoed. “Erm... big, mean, megalomaniac... evil dictator? Destroyer?”

“His function as a monarch?”

“He's... kinda useless,” Danny feebly pointed out.

“Your leaders in the mortal world are oft regarded as such,” Clockwork rebutted. “And yet their work behind the scenes dictate the rules of your world. Another question, then; Pariah Dark brought your city to his world last time due to his tie to the Ghost Zone by right of rule. You remember it. To this day, no ghost can, shall or will replicate that feat. Why did he do so? The energy cost would be prohibitive for such a feat; I dare say that had he not done so, he would have defeated you soundly.”

Danny grimaced. “He had... no choice?”

“And why?”

“'Cause... he can't leave the Ghost Zone?”

“And reason triumphs over the initial impulses of a young ghost that an enemy would willingly expend so much power simply to drag a human city across worlds,” the amusement was fleeting in Clockwork's expression. “He _could_ , given the effort. Yet, he did not, for a single reason. I admire him for that reason.”

“You admired him?” Danny asked.

“Oh, he was a great man in his afterlife. A terrible and lonely one, but a great monarch.” Clockwork looked as the crack deepened, unleashing a plume of green flame that flared momentarily, before it winked out of existence into ether. “The last of a series of kings that fought, destroyed and died, and then... Pariah Dark. When the end of his reign was forthcoming-”

“The _end_?” Danny cut in. “You _knew_ that Pariah Dark was going to be trapped?”

“Don't be silly. His Majesty was never meant to be trapped.” Clockwork shook his head. “Do you understand why Pariah Dark is King of _all Ghosts_ , instead of King of the _Ghost Zone_? Kings never last forever, and the hearts of sentient beings, man and ghost alike, will never remain with a single individual. Pariah Dark knew that above all, even with his power. We... did this.”

“What d'you mean?”

Pandora arrived, floating in with a hunk of stone behind her, a sullen Nocturne in her wake. “Oh, hello, Danny Phantom~!”

Nocturne grunted, an air of having just been shaken awake apparent.

“Pandora. Nocturne,” Danny acknowledged. “So, what's with the hunk of rock and the limp bedsheet?”

“My bedsheet is superior to that tripe you call clothing,” Nocturne sniffed at Danny's attire of a ghostly jumpsuit.

“Hey, back off! This is for hazardous material!”

“Nocturne's the foremost ghost expert on induced sleep,” Pandora explained. “And he made the enchantments for the first Sarcophagus. I'm hoping that this is enough to make a second Sarcophagus to fit the first one very comfortably, just in case someone... you know, took the key and opened it.”

“You made the Sarcophagus?” Danny snorted. “That explains the hell-box... how's it knocking, Nocturne?”

Nocturne snorted.

“He's not a morning person, eh,” Danny chuckled, watching as Pandora drew a measuring tape over the cracking Sarcophagus. “Pandora... will this work?”

“It must.” Having marked the dimensions, the measuring tape snapped back into a roll in two arms while the other pair of Pandora's arms began marking the stone with chalk. “The least we can do now is to keep the pain away.”

Danny sighed, turning back to Clockwork. “I'm going back. Clockwork?”

“Go back, Daniel Phantom,” Clockwork echoed. “Go back. This is... our work.”

* * *

Clockwork's expression warred with the warnings in Danny's head for most of the day, through his job as teaching assistant in Casper High, through a number of lessons and lectures. Sure, Pariah Dark was a megalomaniac ghost-

_Vlad started it, he stole the Ring of Rage for spirits' sake-_

-who also terrorised his city-

- _again,_ _because Vlad stole the Ring of Rage-_

-and the ghosts, plus his coming back is a bad thing-

- _but you know what it's like for everyone to hate you without reason, don't you?_

Halfway through lecturing, Danny paused. The case of Pariah Dark, while not convincing, had thrown something together about Pariah Dark being a... well, pariah, amongst ghosts. Being trapped in a giant stone box couldn't be a picnic either. If anything, Pariah Dark should be giving his own account of the story, and the Ghost King probably held a greater grudge against Vlad for stealing the Ring of Rage to begin with. Now, with a greater grudge against one Danny Phantom for locking him back...

“Mr Fenton?”

The sun was shining, the weather clement, and Danny snapped out of his reverie. “Huh? Oh, of course. Well, the mathematical significance of the sine and cosine angle...”

It didn't matter, he told himself. Not if Pariah Dark was going to be locked in a Sarcophagus within a Sarcophagus, cursed to forever sleep. Pariah's side of the story... was beyond him.

The chalk broke against the blackboard.

“Mr Fenton?” An annoying blond student in a letter jacket asked, pointing to the slumping figure supine upon the ground, curled in a foetal position. “Mr Fenton... are you alright? Mr Fenton...?!”

* * *

More than once, Clockwork reflected on the metaphors of the Ghost Zone. While humans could explain away a simple play on words as a pun, the Zone itself was an annoyingly literal world of genies, literal ghost-writers, and in his case, the ghost in the machine. The Ghost Zone was a location of fates, not one where the hereafter was easily quantifiable by human science.

Stretching the metaphor further was the Crown of Fire, a symbol of life over the dominion of afterlife, rebirth and returning, a circle with no beginning or end. Also a sun. The Crown of Fire was a sun. The Crown took on the properties of its bearer, despite changing its form to best suit the ghost royalty that had lived and died with it upon their brow. The Crown changed the Ghost Zone, influenced the two worlds, and until a rough ghost had claimed it, was insurmountable. Pariah Dark, the pariah of ghosts, was crowned King of all Ghosts, and with it...

… there was little time.

“Time Out.”

Pandora froze, as did Nocturne. Time itself seemed to be holding its breath.

Like some video recording, they remained as they were, unaware of time's pause as Clockwork battered part of the Sarcophagus, completing the months of work needed to break the Sarcophagus from within in barely a second, the remnants of the enchantment of Forever Sleep fading with the second breaking of its life.

Clockwork hesitated. Surely... well, the Observants did do their jobs, despite having replaced the King of all Ghosts with a literal figurehead, without anything but truly themselves to answer for, never realising that the mistakes of the future, that time itself bent only for Clockwork... and Pariah Dark's lonely fate to be permanently sealed in a coffin for the sake of stability.

There were too many events, too many coincidences, and too many possibilities that the Ghost Zone might see its destruction like this. The ghost of Time smirked. No one ever said that Clockwork was a lousy gambler.

“Time In.”

Hell broke out across the Ghost Zone.

 

 


	3. Il était une fois

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An uncritical viewing of Reign Storm would probably explain Pariah's actions as a pissed-off, autocratic old ghost with a tendency of histrionics in public. Sort of like Oda Nobunaga.  
> Critiquez, s'il vous plaît!

“ _This is Tiffany Snow with Action News._ _And this is the Ghost Emergency Broadcasting System._ _Amity Park is facing its largest mass ghost exodus since the event ten years ago, the prelude to Amity Park's temporary relocation into the mysterious dimension referred to as the Ghost Zone._ _And now, here's Lance Thunder with the Ghost Weather!_ _Lance?_ ”

“ _Well, Tiffany, chaos reigns in Amity Park,_ _odd even by the standard of America's most haunted city_ _as ghosts of all shapes, sizes and species flood the streets. The mayor's office has declined comment, though_ _Mayor Foley has personally led_ _FentonWorks personnel,_ _along with the_ _Fentons themselves,_ _in an effort to clean up the streets._ _O_ _ur local intrepid hero and world-saviour Danny Phantom is nowhere in sight_ _at the moment, though_ _Madeline Fenton has given her assurance that he is investigating the root of this problem_ _. This is Lance Thunder_ _from Action News,_ _saying, THE INVASION IS HERE!_ _RUN!_ ”

It was to this cheery bit of weirdness disguised in dispassionate, falsely cheerful packaging that Danny awoke to. He was in a cot, shrouded by tall curtains. Light stabbed into his eyeballs, and Danny groaned as he shifted, raising a hand to block the needles of light.

“Mr Fenton!” the school nurse was bustling over. “Well, collapsing in class like that, your students were all terrified! I know you were accident-prone in your days as a student, but really, such a bad example! What will Mr Lancer say?!”

Danny made a move to sit up, but was pushed down by the nurse.

“Lie down, Mr Fenton,” she advised in a chirp. “An ambulance is coming to fetch you, and we've called your emergency contacts. Though, I had to call your second contact, since it appears that Miss Samantha Manson is not in town-”

“What? No hospitals,” Danny sat back up, that even the jibe of Sam not being in town for her university and job up north did not hurt. “No hospitals!”

“Mr Fenton, you need to be examined!” the nurse protested. “Casper High is paying for your medical insurance, surely you can afford to use it!”

Danny Fenton at fourteen years old would have protested further, curling in on himself in embarrassment for being sent to hospital on a mild seizure. Danny Fenton at twenty-four years old just knew that the nurse would ignore everything he said.

So, he made himself disappear, flying invisibly back towards FentonWorks and the cause of all this; within the Ghost Zone.

The nurse came back, to find the TA gone.

“Mr _Fenton_?!”

* * *

Contrary to expectations, the immediate destruction of several floating plots of land and lairs of ghosts was not the first event of Pariah Dark's second reawakening. Nor was it the second. In fact, the event itself seemed eerily quiet... given that its spectral population had fled the boundaries of their world to get away, an unsurprising fact.

In the midst of the wreckage that was Pariah's Keep, a tiny green dog yipped. He then whined, whimpering as its sole occupant stepped out. One scarred green eye glared down towards the dog; the other eye had long been obscured with a black eye-patch. Even as the dog increased in size, musculature and teeth count, Pariah Dark remained as stolidly impressive and intimidating. The dog's head reached to his waist.

Pariah Dark stooped. The Ghost King picked up the pink item off of his floor.

In his large hand, the chew toy squeaked. “Is this yours?”

Warily, the canine spectre growled, still a giant beast.

Pariah dropped it. “Accept this, with no expectation of favours and no exchange of gifts. Now go about your business with the knowledge that Pariah Dark has spared you this day.”

A doggy tail wagged, watching as Pariah stomped back into the castle. A tentative sniff, and then the dog shrunk. The ghost puppy trotted happily, tongue lolling out as it regarded the giant striding down the entrance hallway before it.

Pariah turned at the sound of clicking claws on stone. He turned around, and then looked down. “We are not feeding strays, and we have no need for a security dog.”

Pant. Pant. Pant.

More marching, more trotting. Stop. March, trot. Stop. March, trot. Stop.

The dog lingered, dropping the chew toy at Pariah's feet.

The Ghost King gingerly handled the squeaky device once more, looking from it to the dog. “We do not suppose that you will desist.”

The dog nodded, still panting.

“We are going to find the nearest portal,” Pariah Dark commented. “Then we shall throw it in, and you shall fetch it, and then you will never cross the eyes of Pariah Dark, King of all Ghosts, again.”

A bit of walking out, some flying, and then the ghost dog was leaping into a swirled triangle after the squeaky toy that Pariah Dark dropped it in. A heartbeat later, dog and toy made it out before the portal closed.

By then, Pariah Dark was already gone.

* * *

Passing on his way towards Pariah's Keep, Danny watched the King of all Ghosts show a quality of compassion and restraint towards Cujo. Sure, Pariah looked more like the type to kick puppies and eat them stewed alive for breakfast, and yet the Ghost King had been remarkably restrained, perhaps even merciful.

Yet, Danny had almost forgotten the power the Ghost King had commanded, even without one of his two artefacts. Dan Phantom had taken years to amass power for feats that had taken the Ghost King hours to accomplish, and judging from the desolation surrounding Pariah's Keep, something very much like the reign's storm was about to begin anew.

A scarred eye looked in his direction, and Danny had to duck the searing beam of dark-red ectoplasm that cracked the bedrock island suspended behind him. “Oh crap.”

“ _WHO... DARES?!_ ”

Sure, ten years had done wonders for his experience, but in drawing on raw power there was nothing to match a hundredfold of truly desperate power borne on miracles. There was no Ectoskeleton Suit now to place between him and Pariah. “Erm... I'm sorry, I'm just... passing through?”

Silence rang like a silver bell. What flares there were faded, and Pariah Dark remained standing. Despite that he was on ground and Danny floating in space, it still seemed as though Danny was floating only on barely held permission from Pariah.

“...I'll just go now,” Danny said.

Pariah Dark's single eye stared. It was bleak and horrifying. The ghost dog flew up to Danny in greeting, yipping in delight. Like that, the tension snapped.

“Hi Cujo,” Danny patted the dog.

“You should keep an eye on your pets,” the gravelly voice of the King of all Ghosts echoed in his wake as Pariah flew back, towards the shadow of Pariah's Keep.

Cujo's tail drooped, and the ghostly puppy whined in complaint. Danny looked from it, to the mausoleum of Pariah's Keep, and shook his head. “Wow, he's real chipper.”

“ _Woof_ ,” said the dog. Well, barked.

“Yeah,” Danny nodded as the puppy began trotting in the direction of Pariah's Keep. “You're right.”

Passing ravens cawed in an unkindness; the surroundings of Pariah's Keep remained as dark and bare. Trees stripped bare of any greenery poked their sharp branches out and about, some scratching at his clothings in some perverse version of briar roses.

“Not that Pariah's a sleeping beauty by any measure,” Danny commented, floating up towards the castle.

To an untrained eye, perhaps the castle's details would be normal, but Danny could sense something like the castle attempting to restructure itself. The process was almost organic, unlike the pre-set mechanical instructions the FentonWorks house enjoyed. Walking in was like stepping into a house whose desire was to eat you.

“Well, now I know how _Monster House_ feels like,” Danny commented, floating in... slowly.

There were long hallways with doors inter-spaced, with either arrowslits or brackets for torches in between coloured, dusty tapestries that covered the walls. Now and again a suit of armour stood guard, often armed, and quite literally moving, but Pariah's Keep remained as it were, ignorant of Danny's presence physically but still, it felt like the halfa was under constant surveillance.

They reached the throne room, and then Danny spotted the remnant of the Sarcophagus, resting at the foot of the throne.

“I know you're here.” Danny whispered. “Don't be afraid.”

“ _I_ am not afraid.”

Danny jumped; somehow Pariah Dark had remained silent and unobtrusive in a large, empty throne room. Cujo's tail wagged as it gave a yip. Both human-like ghosts ignored the spectral puppy.

“Then come out,” he pressed.

“Then _you'll_ be afraid,” came the answer.

Danny stepped back, away from the door where Pariah Dark had appeared. Cujo dropped to the floor, and scurried towards Pariah.

“You have returned,” Pariah Dark commented.

Danny's muscles tensed. “I... have.” _To stop your plans_ , he tried to say. Yet it felt like, whatever there was, there was no plan, no stakes. Just two former enemies having a conversation.

“I thought you would wear the Crown of Fire.”

“It... disappeared,” Danny shrugged. True, the symbol of ghost monarchy had disappeared in the wake of the battle, but Danny had an idea that, in the wake of Vlad Plasmius's stranding in space, the Crown of Fire was possibly sleeping in an evidence locker provided by the Guys in White. “It's... not dangerous, right?”

“To the thief? Absolutely. But, provided no unworthy being wears it...” Pariah shrugged, implying a painful certain death towards the unfortunate unworthy.

“That's terrible.”

“If they stole it, they deserve everything that is coming for them.”

Well, no way to fault that logic. “Ghosts are escaping into the human world in droves to escape you.”

Pariah Dark remained silent.

“If you're not... hostile... now, I mean,” Danny paused, choosing his words. “Then... maybe you could... you know, spread the word. My town's being overrun.”

“The basis of my hostility stems towards the unlawful theft of my property,” Pariah blandly replied. “Your... _town_ , as you say, was in the way of the restoration of my Ring.”

“Okay, that was Plasmius,” Danny admitted. “And... I apologise on his behalf. Still, you... you have the authority to get the ghosts out of my town, right? Even though you invaded it last time...”

“I would have thought that _you_ would have it,” Pariah observed. “You took the Crown of Fire, implicitly accepting the banner of the Dark Throne.”

“What? No!” Danny shook his head. “Nothing has changed, I'm still just a simple halfa, Danny Phantom.”

Silence echoed. Scarlet flames flared for a brief moment, and Danny almost flinched but for the ice that seemed to hang around him. The flames then changed to green.

“... you are correct, unusual as it seems,” Pariah finally declared to the almost-empty throne room. “Somehow, the transfer of authority that comes with right of conquest should have followed the Crown.”

“But the ancient ghosts defeated you-” Danny's teeth clicked shut. “You... probably don't want a reminder. Sorry.”

“Seven against one, and they only locked me up with the Crown,” Pariah commented airily. “They were truly foolish there, make no mistake. Although, I shall answer the gist of your question; the Crown's curse has always focused itself upon a single individual.”

Danny's brow furrowed. “Erm... right. So... how about we make acquaintances? I'm Danny Fen- I mean, Phantom. Daniel Phantom. Just call me Danny.”

“Very well, Daniel Phantom, half-mortal and half-ghost,” Pariah replied. “I have many names. You know me as Pariah Dark, King of all Ghosts.”

“I know. You didn't have to tell me.”

“I'm afraid it is a stipulation of the Crown.”

“Haha... you're kidding, right?” Danny paused. “Please tell me you are.”

Conversation followed. Somehow, neither party began blasting, and even when the cups were broken out, the two ghosts managed to share a jug of ectohol. It was a while before Danny stood back up, Cujo yipping in concern.

“Erm... you're, not so bad,” Danny offered. “I mean, when we're talking and not... fighting.”

“You have lifted neither power nor weapon to me,” Pariah dismissed. “I have no cause to quarrel with you at present.”

“Not even with the Sarcophagus?” Danny teased.

Pariah's eyes flashed; flame erupted, red and black, along with a stench of rotten eggs simmering. The lines on his face ever deepened, any patina of civilisation had been stripped to show a very simple, constant fury. Only some unknown strength kept Danny to face the infernal flames surrounding the demonic horned king.

“We _rage_ , Daniel Phantom,” thundered the King of all Ghosts. “We remember that grievance. The reason you are not a smear of ectoplasm upon the floor of this very castle right now, is because we recognise no fault in defending one's homestead, and there is no quarrel between us here. Yet, recognition is not equal to forgiveness, and we take a very long time to forgive. Do not think of us as friends, or even allies, and so, do not take liberties with _us_. Do. You. _Comprehend_?”

Danny nodded, ears ringing.

“Now get out of my sight.”

So Danny found himself in a mass ghost exodus in Amity Park under a split second, still with ears ringing and wondering exactly where, did Pariah Dark flipped out.

Pariah Dark himself, was staring at a whining Cujo, his expression pensive as a stone. He strode off, ignoring the ghost puppy trailing in his wake. A heartbeat later, he stopped, and the puppy caught up.

“Cujo... was it?”

Somewhere in the Ghost Zone, Clockwork was soothing a panicked Nocturne and Pandora in his lair, and the three ancients were discussing and comparing notes. For what reason, we might never know, or we might. The future has yet to unfold, after all.


	4. Incertus

“ _Now get out of my sight._ ”

The command itself wasn't the problem. The issue was that, not only did Pariah Dark apparently know where he lived, the Ghost King had also sent him right back onto his family's doorstep. Or the implication that Pariah Dark had the ability to conjure portals.

In other words, terrifying. Surprisingly civil, but also terrifying.

“Danny? Danny? Danny, are you alright? You're scaring me.”

“Huh? What?” Danny blinked, as the face of Maddie Fenton faded into being before his eyes. _Oh, right. Home._ “Hi, Mom. I'm fine. It's just... the ghost invasion.”

“I understand, sweetie. We're running out of Thermoses, and there's talk that the Jerks in White- I mean, the Guys in White are going to get a federal warrant soon on the excuse that we can't _handle_ it,” Maddie growled under her voice, before the bipolar shift in mood so common to the Fenton family appeared. “Meatloaf, honey?”

The loaf pulsed green under his nose.

“...thanks, Mom, but I'm not hungry.” At Maddie's crestfallen expression, he added, “maybe later. Just... I'm tired.”

“Fighting ghosts all day can sure work up an appetite,” Maddie pressed as Danny walked in.

“Not if you're looking at just one ghost,” Danny muttered. “Who may or may not have a point.”

The inside of his pillow was bad, but it blocked his eyes, pressing stubby cotton into the eyeballs and pressing out all the noise of the world. Flat on his bed, Danny found himself reflecting.

Bad: Pariah Dark causes mass exodus, Danny busy.

Good: If Pariah Dark can be convinced to be nice to _other_ ghosts, ghosts might not escape into the Ghost Zone too often.

The good very much outweighed the bad, Danny decided, and he fell asleep, resolving to visit again tomorrow with proposal in hand.

* * *

Through the forest of thorns galloped Night Mare, green flame scattered in the wake of the equine ghost and its rider. A sword, sheathed in ghostly leather, clanked as its pommel came into contact with a buckle now and then on the saddle, and yet the _clank_ was no so much a _clink_ as a dirge. Flame hair streaked out in the wake of the Fright Knight, the dark knight actively moving towards Pariah's Keep, the fortified mausoleum of the King surrounded by the remnants of the bailey that used to stand, until destroyed by the ancients, and the remnants further damaged in the last battle.

Ignoring the armed sentries with longbows, Night Mare and the Fright Knight gained entrance past the drawbridge easily, into the bailey and through to the castle itself. Night Mare stopped suddenly and nervously hoofed at the air beneath her, neighing softly in distress as the Knight dismounted.

Dismounting and petting Night Mare briefly, Fright Knight set out on his own toward the castle, head high, though he occasionally cracked his neck. Wandering past rapidly repairing hallways and fading paintings, past less rusty suits of armour and tapestries, the keep looked much less ruined, doubtlessly cleaned by the skeletal servants of Pariah.

Dear sweet Spirits, he hoped Pariah Dark was not in a bad mood.

The double doors that led to the throne room loomed, each bearing a skull motif. Tentatively, he pushed the doors open and stepped inside. The throne of Pariah Dark loomed at the far end, surrounded with horns and flames, will-o-wisps of green that lit the torch brackets on either side. It was impressive, the remnants of the Sarcophagus scattered around its foot and upon the carpet and stone. Its dark occupant was nowhere in sight.

His liege had awoken; a shock _ipso facto_ , yet not... entirely impossible. Possibly quite enraged, obvious. Were the Fright Knight to be discovered, there was literally a snowball's chance in Tartarus that the spirit of All-hallows Eve would escape.

A growl resounded behind. He was immediately slammed into the wall, a spider-web of cracks digging into the stone behind his back. Looming above, the face of Pariah Dark hovered, the large hand of the King easily hoisting the other ghost, armour and sword and everything.

Yes. The Fright Knight was totally, as they said in this day and age, screwed.

“You _dare_ enter our presence, Fright Knight?” he raged, his hand clenching tighter around the Fright Knight's neck. “Unannounced, with nary an ounce of shame, without due respect! _After_ you betray us!”

The Knight's armoured feet scrabbled against the wall for purchase. “My liege…!” the Fright Knight choked. “I… I wish only…. to serve…!”

He was cut off by a tighter squeeze around his neck. A booming bark informed his senses that there was a dog, right beside Pariah, barking at him. Where did that dog come from?

“There is not an excuse for your treason, Sir Fright,” Pariah Dark spat, letting go to watch the Fright Knight. “Reward should come as a traitor deserves.”

“My liege...”

“We are in a mood,” Pariah continued. “Pariah's mercy is thus; the slow disappearance of the Fright Knight, or the quick end of the Fright Knight. Choose.”

Fright Knight gave a soft exhale. “T- The fast death.”

Pariah Dark smirked. “I rescind your service to the Crown.”

Fright Knight's gauntleted hands clutched at the ground. “Spirits. Please, mercy...”

“As conditioned by the Knight's Code, you are awarded the title of Black Knight, to be employed at your choosing,” Pariah continued. “Henceforth, you no longer serve the Dark Throne. You no longer command authority under the banner of King Pariah Dark, and King Pariah Dark no longer mandates you.”

“My liege, no...”

“Knight without honour, without a master, know that your end approaches as the fires of the Crown burn you within,” Pariah mandated. “So mote it be. The Fright Knight is no more, and in his place the Black Knight.”

With that said, Pariah Dark glared at his disgraced, former Knight. “You live. Never let it be said that Pariah Dark is not merciful.”

Propriety won, and Fright prostrated before the King. “T- Thank you, M- My liege…!”

Green flame burned around the former Fright Knight, and then screams began to echo as Pariah's back turned.

Cujo's tongue lolled out as Pariah strode to his throne and took out a book from behind it. Both ignored the writhing, crawling figure of the former Fright Knight caught aflame with verdant fire.

Pariah opened the book. “Was it not merciful, pup?”

Cujo cocked its head and yipped.

“Oh yes... watching the remnants of the Crown's power within the former Fright Knight begin burning him out will be amusing.”

* * *

A decade and a day had led Danny off course, that he had almost forgotten the streak of malice hidden within every ghost, including himself. Megalomania, bloodlust, sheer schadenfreude and mischief that wrecked the lives of mortals without a care. It was irresponsible and foolish, to believe that Pariah Dark was less than his subjects in the art of petty revenge and major revenge.

“What is that?!” He started at the smell of charred meat and ectoplasm wafted over his nose, made all too familiar by one too many fire-fight.

Cujo yipped a greeting as Pariah glanced up from a codex. “Hmm?”

“The smell!”

“The former Fright Knight dropped by. I gave him a thrashing.”

Danny gave him a look. “I don't believe you. This place is too clean.”

“I do not require your belief. Only your acceptance.”

Danny glared, but said nothing else. “So... what are you reading?”

“A treatise on the history of the Ghost Zone as provided by the Ghost Writer,” Pariah Dark answered dryly. “One does not miss centuries like mine without great change happening, even in a world of the eternal. Tyrant I may be, yet an incompetent tyrant is almost laughable. The 'Writer was happy enough to do his service to the Crown on the condition that his library was declared protected. I obliged to gain a repository, as I had done so ten years ago.”

“And you admit that you're a bad guy?”

“I don't understand.”

“A tyrant is a sovereign or other ruler who uses power oppressively or unjustly,” Danny pointed out slowly, as if talking to a very slow man.

“In my day, a tyrant was anyone who obtained power by unconventional means,” Pariah considered. “In my case, I survived the seven civil wars that tore the Ghost Zone apart into the wasteland of islands mired in blank space that you see this day, leaving myself as the sole candidate.”

“Seven...?”Danny mouthed.

“I am a tyrant, very well. I am also a tyrant who has survived.” Pariah observed.

“But tyrants cause terror, which causes uprisings,” Danny argued. “Maybe, if you took a softer stance-”

“I would rather be feared than loved,” Pariah replied, a touch dark. “Beloved kings are toppled easily, if not by the populace that loves them, then by their enemies who sends in traitors to stab them in the back. Feared kings rule longer.”

“A flawed one,” Danny reasoned. “Ghosts have power, and they're like animals. They'll fight tooth and nail to escape, and they're quite willing to band together in the face of a common enemy.”

He took a deep breath. “I'm... just saying, instead of destroying homes, you could look at, maybe reconstruction work-”

“What do you think I was doing, boy?!” Pariah snapped. “To reconstruct something, destruction is needed. To sweep away the debris of the past, to make the future!”

“Yes, well, some notice would be good!” Danny yelled.

“I _did_ give notice!” Pariah roared. “Even _I_ know that tenants need an alternative residence space first!”

“So, why did they...” Danny's eyes narrowed. “Was there a big public announcement?”

“No,” Pariah snapped, his temper cooling. “I sent each tenant a separate letter. Why cause a big panic over restructuring and reconstruction. I would admit, I did not anticipate them to have found accommodation so quickly.”

Danny was staring at the Ghost King with confusion and a fair amount of dawning comprehension.

“Modern ghosts are a lot more resourceful,” Pariah continued.

“Pariah...”

At then, Pariah's eye flashed. “Did you just use our name without leave?”

“Do you have a copy of the letter on hand?” Danny insisted.

“Letters,” Pariah sighed. “I sent them all the same duplicate this time, seeing as my repair work was slowed. My skeletons have been working on the bailey to accommodate any strays yet to have found alternative housing, seeing the quick migration speed of the average ghost.”

 _They're not migrating, they're running from you!_ Danny wanted to scream, but glared instead. “The letters. You've got to have worded something that makes them think you're summoning them for execution. This is why being nice would get you brownie points.”

Pariah twitched. Another pop culture reference. “Are you asking me to be less than what I am, boy? Because if you are, then you are sorely mistaken. I refuse.”

“So you're pure malice, evil, and lack compassion?” Danny asked sharply. “If so, then why bother?”

“Because my people deserve more than unsanitary, unruly and unsafe caves to live in?” Pariah commented. “Or because the creation of a unified law would bring the rule of order into this anarchistic world? Or because simply asking the individual ghost to put aside their own short-term welfare for the greater good is impossible, unless given imminent mortal peril? Yes, I have read of the giant stone in the final frontier, Daniel Phantom.”

Danny blushed, trying not to show how those words hit home. The Disasteroid had given him more insight into how ghosts were unruly and anarchistic and so on, but...

... _my people._ Pariah Dark had said that. And, now it depended on what came next...

“The letters? Please?”

While Pariah Dark was surprisingly civil, the scrolls in which the letters came in were intimidating, stamped with the same skull emblem on the Ring of Rage; in fact, Danny suspected that they had been stamped _with_ the Ring. Which would not be the first time that an object of incredible power was used for such a mundane purpose, but the mark also gave him pause that, apparently, not a single ghost had opened their _letters_ beforehand to read the simple housing notice and invitation beforehand.

“'The baileys around the Keep are sturdy and-'” Danny stopped quoting. “Baileys?”

“My skeletal army exists for a purpose other than imposing my tyrannical rule,” Pariah replied, a touch acrimonious. “This Keep was designed as a fortification with a wooden or stone keep situated on a raised earthwork, accompanied by an enclosed courtyard surrounded by a protective ditch and palisade. The result is relatively easy to build with unskilled labour, but still militarily formidable.”

Danny blinked. “I... I don't get it.”

A scroll thumped against his skull.

“Ow!” Danny scowled, but watched as the scroll unfurled to reveal plans. Crude blueprints and maps of a large castle, set upon a desolate, rocky islet in the midst of a sea of purple. The tiny islet was dominated by a dense grove of tall, dark trees, closely hemmed in by precipitous cliffs. Sepulchral portals and windows penetrated the contours of the islet; the lines traced through the symbols of the trees showing a walled town, barracks, settlements, neutral zones, marketplaces. All overshadowed by the castle.

With his finger, Danny traced one line. “This is... Pariah's Keep? Before... _everything_?”

“Is that what they name this place now?” Pariah sounded amused, yet pensive, the shift in mood apparent in each and every move. “The island to imprison the monster?”

Danny's eyes widened. “Erm, we should-”

Pariah's shoulders squared. “Leave me.”

“But I-”

“Leave _us_.”

Slowly, Danny backed away, even as Cujo's whines increased. “Right.”

He turned. “I'm going now... but I'll be back. I promise.”

There was no reply, only the heavy stink that lingered.

* * *

Ten years of technical ghost-fighting had not actually stopped ghost violence within Amity Park. If anything, it had normalised ghost sightings, such that the Guys in White kept a permanent field office within city limits and tabs on known stable portals. Amity Park visitors had to sign a waiver; it became a bonus for both the city's tourism industry and psychiatric practitioners.

It was in this dichotomous economy that Dr Jasmine Fenton plied her trade as Amity Park's foremost psychologist on ecto-human problems. It was also thus, that when Amity Park faced its second ghost exodus in ten years, that Dr Jasmine Fenton was one of the first to be called to duty, writing a report to detail handling the second exodus.

It was stormy outside; Vortex was loose upon Amity Park, the atmokinectic ghost limited to venting upon the city with the FentonWorks Ghost Shield. All was peaceful, for the moment; even spectral activity had been strangely calm, unlike the last time.

“Aside from the expected ecto-human scuffles typical of the landscape, the exodus is rather calm, speaking upon a comparative perspective on first-hand experience,” Jazz was talking to a handheld recorder. “The foretold release of the Ghost King, referred to as Pariah Dark, seems to hold a short-term panic, but not expected to hold a long-term problem, likely due to certain path dependencies that seem ingrained- Danny!”

Danny Phantom phased through the laptop keyboard.

“You have to stop doing that,” Jazz told her younger brother.

“Sorry, Jazz,” Danny sighed. “Jazz, I need help.”

Awkward silence reigned in the office.

“...what.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The use of the word 'keep' suggests a motte-and-bailey construction of the Ghost King's castle, dating the architecture to the 11th century at the very earliest. This also supports evidence that Pariah Dark may be Viking in origin, aside from Word of God that his design was based on Odin. Though the lack of physical barriers of travel in the Ghost Zone might have led to a hodgepodge of culture where the inhabitants adapt whatever cultural relics from the human world into their belief, time itself seems relative in the Ghost Zone. Yet, I also believe that Pariah might have heard of this construction form; where advanced architecture might be beyond him, the process of building and maintaining a simple castle with his ability to summon skeletons should be much easier. Or I'm just blowing over my head.
> 
> The description of Pariah's Keep is not truly accurate, but I judge that to be a result of bad lighting in the original show. So, what I wrote here was based on the Isle of the Dead depicted in [ Arnold Böcklin's Isle of the Dead or Die Toteninsel](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Isle_of_the_Dead_\(painting\)), depicted above.


	5. Confessio

“I need your help.”

“See, you're speaking in English, but I can't understand you.”

“Ha-de-ha-ha,” Danny shot back to the older Fenton child. “Jazz, please.”

“Of course,” Jazz crossed her legs. “What's the problem?”

“Pariah Dark.”

“Yes?”

“He's free and...” Danny hesitated. “...he's... not destroying things.”

“That's good, isn't it?”

“He's also surprisingly polite and...” Danny shook his head. “He was hostile to us last time!”

“Yes,” Jazz nodded as Danny continued the explanation with epic flailing about. “And you elaborated in your journal that I made you do, that the fruit-loop stole his precious treasure. _After_ Pariah Dark was released from who knows how long in a stone coffin. A human would be mad, never mind a ghost. You want me to rationalise the actions of a ghost – a very old ghost, I might add – to you.”

“If you wouldn't mind.”

“The difference between now and ten years ago are... a bit fuzzy,” Jazz considered. “But we can probably assume a form of culture shock. Where do you think Pariah Dark came from?”

“Dunno,” Danny volunteered. “Crown, Ring, he's a king.”

Jazz rolled her eyes. “How long since his possible death, I mean.”

“No idea.” Danny shrugged. “Europe, maybe? Middle Ages?”

“Right,” Jazz nodded, typing on her laptop. “I have no idea about ghosts, but I imagine that the Ghost Zone probably changed lots, even during this decade. For Pariah Dark, it must be a huge culture shock, added with the rage from Vlad's theft and so on. I'm accessing our records to check now.”

Danny waited, halfa and human scanning pages upon pages of electronic text upon ghosts in companionable silence. Photographs, accounts, weapons, reports were complied periodically by the GIW, but the Fentons always kept their own records. It helped that Jack and Maddie Fenton were still patent-holders for most ghost-hunting equipment on the market.

Finally, Jazz tapped the touch-pad, pausing a video. “If we assume that he was out only for about a day or so during the first ghost exodus before being imprisoned, the difference this time might be the time-frame of acclimatisation. Assuming the culture shock hypothesis, either he spent ten years on reflection in the Sarcophagus to come to terms, or he had time to reflect now.”

“Is time a crucial element?” Danny asked.

“I can't confirm or deny that without interviewing the Ghost King directly, and I don't think he'll take too kindly to humans in his realm,” Jazz pointed out. “It's not time, rather it's Pariah Dark's own sense of urgency. One thing strikes at me, though.”

“Yeah? What?”

“This bit, where Amity Park was annexed into the Ghost Zone,” Jazz played the video, showing a large ghostly dome collapse to reveal the green depths of spectral space. “Why transport a whole city through space, possibly time? It would be easier and efficient to bring _himself_ to Amity Park, not otherwise. Why isn't he here already, if he was really out to terrorise all ghosts and humans?”

“We're making an assumption of rationality, right?” Danny asked. “Hello, _ghosts_.”

“Even insane ghosts have their own version of rationality,” Jazz primly replied. “Pariah Dark is no different from Technus wanting to take over the world, or Ember's desire to have her name chanted forever. Look, we have evidence of planning; motivation; articulation; philosophy. This is not a wildebeest to hunt, Danny; this is a sentient being.”

“He's... a sentient being,” Danny echoed. The words were powerful. The world tilted on its axis...

“Given his possible current situation,” Jazz continued. “Pariah Dark is also extremely vulnerable in his mind right now. He could get attached to anything, anyone. A bit of niceness can actually go a long way.”

Danny thought back to Cujo's attachment of the Ghost King, and the resigned pleasure Pariah Dark had taken, even in conversation with a former enemy. When discussing his plans, showing blueprints, hankering after a dream.

Once upon a time, Danny had dreamt of space travel, too.

“Jazz. How do you feel about a possible appointment with the King of All Ghosts?”

* * *

“Pariah Dark is free,” Pandora reflected. “I always knew that this day would come.”

Nocturne had disappeared, long returned to seal his domain from Pariah's wrath. Only Clockwork and the mistress of Pandora's Box remained, both watching from the Acropolis of the Ghost Zone to watch the land around Pariah's Keep congregate.

“'Twas inevitable,” Clockwork reflected. “When he finds his own feet... when he realises who betrayed him and threw him into the Sarcophagus...”

“It's been nice knowing you,” Pandora quipped. “I've got a eulogy all written out. In iambic pentameter!”

“That's nice,” Clockwork agreed as a karaoke mike appeared in his hand. “I think I'll just have a song.  _Wo ist eine lange Nadel? Wo ist eine kurze Nadel? Auf Widersehen, des noch sind da._ ”

“Not that song!” Pandora complained. “It keeps dancing in my head! Technus hates it!”

“  _Na, Schwester, genau geschlossen, geschlossen, gerade heute sich._ _”_ Clockwork mocked. “I even got some cool ideas off of it!”

The Grecian ghost was about to reply were it not for a screen flaring up. “Oh, and the Observants?”

“If this is related to the current monarch crisis, I got no good ideas,” Clockwork said.

“ _You're the Master of Time, Clockwork,_ ” the one-eyes ghost in a cloak replied. “ _Pariah Dark, though valuable,_ _has allowed the Crown of Fire to fall under_ _contest_ _from the halfa._ _As you realise, much of the Ghost Zone's current order relies upon the premise of_ _the Crown_ _never being in dispute_ _._ ”

“Whoever holds the Crown dictates the boundaries of the Ghost Zone, yes,” Clockwork sneered. “In sealing Pariah Dark with one of the two treasures needed to activate it, the Ghost Zone's own annexation capabilities are held. The Observants rule in place of the absentee King.”

“ _In order for order to be maintained in the Ghost Zone, we must limit ourselves,_ ” the Observant pointed out. “ _Ghosts require a say in what is done to their world, rather than Pariah Dark's heavy-handed method._ ”

“With the Observants as their mouthpiece, of course,” Pandora sarcastically commented.

“ _The halfa will make do_ _as King_ _, in a pinch,_ ” the Observant replied. “ _Clockwork, what say you?_ ”

“I would imagine,” the Master of Time replied, “that, were Daniel to realise the true circumstances of Pariah's imprisonment, you would have made an enemy of the Ghost Zone's most powerful ghosts. And if you crown Daniel, I will _end_ his life before I see him cast aside the same way the first King of all Ghosts fell to the Crown's curse.”

“... _You_ _play a dangerous_ _joke, Clockwork._ _You would side with the_ _one you yourself called a tyrant_ _?_ ”

Clockwork smirked. The enigmatic form was enough to get the point across, even as he changed into a baby's shape.

* * *

Cujo's yip alerted Danny to the courtyard. The keep and the courtyard seemed mostly finished; sentries stood around, Pariah's minions keeping a lingering eye-socket upon the Specter Speeder, which descended outside of the castle to park itself by the gates. Danny disembarked, strolling in to see the Ghost King himself swinging what looked like giant barbells.

“Do those work?” Danny asked.

A series of grunts resounded, before the giant barbells thumped down. A cloud of dust rose on impact. “We fought you with a mace at the last battle. Did you think it was for fun?”

“...okay,” Danny acknowledged, edging away from the barbells. “Point taken.”

Cujo yipped, and Danny picked up the dog, receiving a lick for his trouble. “Erm...” Danny paused. “About... your plans.”

Pariah stilled.

“Would you adapt them to the... current, modern, world, I mean-” Danny took a deep breath. “Well, erm, the structure looks... a bit old-fashioned. And... there's a lot, even in the Ghost Zone, that's changed.”

Pariah Dark said nothing.

Taking that as a good sign, Danny ploughed on. “Well, if... you're willing... I, we, could help. I mean. Erm.”

“Generally, assistance is offered by practical strangers only in matters where the offering party holds an agenda,” Pariah Dark replied, dry as the Far Frozen. “Given the circumstances where we last faced each other in battle, you will forgive me if I were to... ponder upon this. Very carefully.”

“...is that a no?”

Pariah Dark picked up the barbells. Danny ducked, stumbling back as the weighted ends swung ponderously some more in a figure eight, like a cheerleader's baton, before it thumped down again and Pariah mopped at his brow. A false gesture, but one that drew Danny's attention. “You come in hopes for the human world.”

“Sort of,” Danny admitted.

“No.”

“N- No?” Danny twitched. “Why _not_?!”

“Various reasons,” Pariah replied. “I am not obligated to reveal them, only that the human world has no place in ghost politics. If you will see yourself out now, that would be much appreciated.”

“Wait!” Danny yelled, as Cujo dropped to the ground. “Please. I got a lot of ghosts waiting for an update from the Ghost Zone. I got a city overrun with... ghost refugees, and wow, is that an awkward term. Most ghosts, they fear you and hate you.”

The Ghost King nodded slowly. “I am aware. As you have demonstrated at my expense before.”

Danny slowly continued. “I... don't know why, you aren't that hateful. Yet. And they thought your letters was an order of summary execution or something.”

Pariah Dark was probably aiming for something along the lines of silent fury. Shock made its appearance instead. “... _W_ _HAT_?!”

Danny flinched as the courtyard caught on fire. Ice surrounded him, steam pouring off of the cold shield as it came into contact with the Ghost King's fiery power that erupted with possibly the force of a localised volcano.

After a moment, the flames died down, leaving Pariah breathing heavily but otherwise unaffected. The same could not be said for a large part of his surroundings.

“We will take your words under advisement, Daniel Phantom,” Pariah Dark pronounced like it was some grand mercy on his part. “The ghosts will return come noon in your world this day.”

“Er... thanks,” Danny nodded. “I really thought your plan was good, though.”

“Then you will be the only one,” an ingratiating smile played around the Ghost King's face as Cujo poked his nose into one large hand. “Do you think this world is important?”

“O- Of course,” Danny answered. “This world and the human world depend on each other. If this world dies, so does the human world.”

“Yes... yes, it does.” Pariah admitted, reaching down to pet the spectral puppy. “Do you know what you have just replied?”

“That the Ghost Zone is important?” Danny asked.

“That the Ghost Zone is not a world of its own merits,” Pariah spat. Wisps of smoke curled around his boots. “That the existence of our world, this world, is contingent upon its support of your mortal world. I suppose it understandable, that it is the dwelling of your enemies. You have chosen your side, after all.”

“No!” Danny insisted, panicked. “I haven't! My friends number amongst ghosts, they're my best allies! I just- why are you asking me this?”

“I am wondering, why is it that the Crown of Fire did not stay with you, and remained within me,” Pariah replied. “I do not know the answer to your question, myself. I only asked them so that I could torment you.”

Danny's green eyes flared. “Yeah, well, you're going to have to get your kicks elsewhere, because I'm just going. And the next time I see you, it'll be with a really large Sarcophagus.”

“... then you are my enemy.”

 _He's armed!_  Danny's conscience screamed as the halfa went sailing into the palisade. Plastered wood collapsed in a cloud of dust about him, and Danny barely rolled out of the wreckage before one really large end of a barbell landed where his head would have been. Danny raised a finger towards the other end, pausing at the sight of blank space before realising that a dark red beam was headed towards him, knocking him back.

Cujo's bark rang out, panicked and scared, growling and confused in Danny's ears as a large gauntleted hand wrapped around his skull, enough to possibly crush the bone and brain matter. Danny's limbs twitched, scrabbling for purchase, negated as Pariah shoved the halfa onto his back, planting one knee against the smaller diaphragm.

The fingers tightened. There was no way to shift from a ghost's grip, or transform his shape, or even do anything.

 _I'm going to die,_ Danny realised.

“Time out.”

Danny drew a tentative breath as the fingers of iron bands were removed, watching Pariah's impassive expression close up through the frozen time. “C- Clockwork! W- What was that?!”

“A man out of time reacting the only way a hunted man would,” Clockwork replied, a touch... sorrowful.

“T- Thanks. You saved my life.” Danny swallowed carefully, massaging his throat.

“No, I didn't,” Clockwork replied as smoke erupted around them. “I need you to consider very carefully, how a man locked up in a Sarcophagus twice to die of immurement might feel towards an unintentional joke of a sarcophagus. I can only give you that much time.”

“Can't you beat him?”

“Not worth the effort.”

A heartbeat passed, time resuming on its normal flow before Danny was seized once more, the fingers tightening.

“I'm sorry,” Danny whispered, charging up a beam of green ectoplasm that hit the Ghost King.

Pariah Dark gave a huff, but let go momentarily, allowing Danny to fly.

“I'm not the enemy!” Danny yelled, a touch ineffectively as more beams shot out in wide arcs, nearly catching on him. “I'm trying to help you!”

Another beam shot out, Danny cried in pain as it knocked him down from space, collapsing amongst burnt grass and scorched earth... as well as fur.

Huh, Danny thought as the rings of light formed around him, leaving him human before the Ghost King... and defenceless.

Above head, Clockwork produced a Polaroid camera and snapped a picture.

* * *

The growls had yet to stop, at all, even as Pariah regarded the ghostly dog. “Yes, it's my fault. Now help me take him in!”

Cujo growled, but grew in size to push at Danny bodily for the King to carry.

“Do you even eat, boy?” The Ghost King scowled at the lightness in his arms. “Not even a bit of armour, you must be mad! Of course, I must be mad too, having mood swings like some newly incorporeal spirit...”

Despite the newness of Pariah's Keep, most of the interior lay in disrepair; the kitchens and staff rooms, as well as storage rooms and offices, were intact, but guest rooms were falling apart at the seams. It meant that the Ghost King left a sleeping human upon the fur-covered chaise-longue in his personal apartments.

“Stay,” he told Cujo, before turning back. “I should check that transport...”

Cujo barked. Loudly.

“Yes, it's unlikely, but I would not enter an unknown realm alone.” Pariah agreed. “There is nothing valuable here to steal, either way.”

The transport, something of brushed steel and green lights, gleamed where it had floated into the entrance hall. Slow examination – and through a transparent material! – revealed no one within the transport, which meant that it had some will of its own. Not unlike his own summons, Pariah surmised. The Ghost King carefully examined by sight, phasing into the vehicle for a brief moment to find himself within a tiny cockpit and a panel of protruding buttons. He examined the panels and screens, thinking about the art of horsemanship.

He then briefly checked under the pilot seat, retrieving the codex of loose paper underneath. The codex fell open, revealing papyrus of much better quality than Pariah had ever seen, written with runes of such uniformity that they had to be... printed.

Slowly, he turned to the cover.

 _The Specter Speeder,_ it read.  _A_ _FentonWorks_ _TM_ _product_.

Intrigued, he read onwards.

_Th_ _e Speeder_ _is an_ _armoured_ _conveyanc_ _e designed for the purpose of safely transporting_ _humans_ _into, within, and out of the Ghost Zone._ _It_ _utilises a prototype energy core to replicate ghosts' observed gravity-defying properties..._

The world had changed so much, he realised. What else had changed? Aside from that he should grant Plasmius the blood eagle; first for ever stealing his Ring, and second for throwing him into this confusing time. Once the other halfa's entrails were spread out on the courtyard, Pariah could dedicate himself to catching up and finding the dangerous Crown of Fire. Then...

_I am the King of all Ghosts, pariah of this world. You will never be able to do what I do._

Somehow, he would find a way to redeem this irredeemable world. Somehow...

Danny woke up with his head on a very nice pillow and covered in a mountain of soft furs. The décor was rustic; skin rugs, unvarnished furniture, strong oak...

…oh, right. Pariah Dark tried to kill him. And was now finishing the job via suffocation under the skins of animals. Sam would have a field day.

Cujo gave a sleepy yip, curled up next to Danny. Well, at least he could be fairly sure of his virtue at this point. Small mercies.

Several pelts fell off of him as he sat up, and Danny's eyes shifted from blue to bright green before he perceived Pariah Dark across of him. The Ghost King was in full armour, and was armed. Danny tensed, before the knives landed with a thump upon the ground, and Pariah's single eye glowed. In one hand, he held the Specter Speeder instruction manual.

_That's the last time I_ _put the manual where ghosts can get it._

That was not even the scariest fact. The scariest fact was that it was covered in ectoplasm.

“Interesting, how today's language has changed,” Pariah commented, surprisingly lucid. “It's not a dream.”

Pariah's furs were covered in the same ectoplasm too, Danny realised. Also, that Pariah's left arm was bleeding it.

“It's not a dream,” Pariah fixed a stare onto Danny. “Daniel Phantom. Tell me truthfully... what is the date?”

Danny swallowed. “Pariah... you've been asleep for a very long time.”

“The date?”

“I- It's the twenty-first century.”

Pariah said nothing, even as he hefted a large obsidian blade and Danny watched him slice his left arm.

“I'm not in a dream,” the Ghost King stated, uncaring of his self-mutilation even as his blood dripped in front of his former enemy's horrified expression. “I see.”

“We need a doctor!” Danny shouted, the furs falling onto a cold stone floor. “We need to get you to a doctor! What the hell are you doing?! We need to get you to my parents?”

“You brought your sire to the Ghost Zone?”

“They're in the human world,” Danny freaked as he knelt to examine the wound. “Why the hell are you using a knife? And why isn't it healing?”

“I can't leave the Ghost Zone,” Pariah echoed, somewhat numb. “I can't ever leave.”

“You're going to have to,” Danny barked, dragging the Ghost King along as he transformed. “This is worse than I thought.”

Cujo barked, following Danny into the Specter Speeder. The larger ghost was dumped behind, before Danny started the transport. It was only a matter of time till they found the Fenton Portal...

… which they went through, and it spat them out back into the Ghost Zone.

“Huh?” Danny blinked.

“I can't leave the Ghost Zone,” Pariah babbled. “It's the Crown's curse, it is. The king is meant to regulate the world's boundaries; he can never leave the land that he rules.”

“Whatever!” Danny barked, keying a new set of directions. “We're going to the Far Frozen.”

“He can never leave,” Pariah continued. “The Ghost King is a pariah, precisely because he is the jailer of every ghost here. The Crown of Fire grants the power to decide boundaries, including ingress and egress. That is why I can never leave.”

“One out of plenty,” Danny gunned the Speeder around and through space, causing Cujo to knock into Pariah. “Sorry! We're going to the Far Frozen now! Why would the stupid Crown block _you_ from getting out of the Ghost Zone?”

“Why,” Pariah Dark whispered. “To protect all of you from _us_ , of course.”


	6. Cuius est solum

“Great- is that-”

“Frostbite, please. I don't think he's in his right mind.”

A lot more white completed the picture, until the demesne of nightmares were broken by Pariah waking up in cold.

Ectoplasm loss, Pariah cursed himself in Hel. Of course it would be to a minor cause like ectoplasm loss that created this mess. That, and the boy trekking across half the Zone shouting his head off. If self-mutilation was the time when Pariah felt rational, he did not dare imagine how off of his head the loss of the Ring upon his hand made him a decade ago. There were tubes in his arm, poked into his veins with a needle.

The ghost boy lingered. “You're awake! Erm, you're not... loopy, are you?”

“We do not understand what you mean.”

“I mean... dizzy? Hungover?” Danny frowned. “Blood loss does strange things.”

“We would have recovered, had you left us to our own devices, instead of causing a racket,” Pariah replied. “'Tis a mere scratch.”

“I have no idea how you dealt with wounds like this in the Middle Ages or whatever, but this is serious,” Danny fiercely replied. “You could've died, Pariah!”

“Do not use our name, impertinent boy,” Pariah retorted.

“Well, quit using the Queen Victoria 'we're not amused' schtick!”

“ _Pluralis maiestatis_  is the definition of king as high office! It is not a _stick_ , or whatever that word is!”

“If I may...” the giant snow monster with one arm encased in ice clear enough to see his bones intervened. “Great One, perhaps you should go outside for a bit to cool your head. I must change the bandages.”

Turning to Pariah, Frostbite added, “Your Majesty has suffered a degree of ectoplasm loss, and such wounds do build. Please, try not to get agitated.”

Pariah took a deep breath as claws undid small knots within the bandages. “We thank you. You are the leader here?”

“Indeed, sire,” the yeti made a small bow. “I am Frostbite, of the Far Frozen. The Great One brought you in, adamant as to the sanctity of your state of mind, Your Majesty.”

“ _Cuius est solum, eius est usque ad coelum et ad inferos,_ ” Pariah blinked. “So he has some degree of influence, enough to barge into the space of your tribe as he decides. Here we believed that he had no interest to rule.”

“The Great One and we of the Far Frozen met by chance, sir” Frostbite replied, a touch cautious. “We have built up a rapport over the years. The beginning was a degree worshipful regards to how his defeating you, but formalities have been left mostly to the wayside. Indeed, the Great One has no interest in politics, much less the bloodshed of our world.”

“The Crown of Fire should have passed to him upon our... defeat,” Pariah related, watching the bandages come off in Frostbite's hands, despite the supposed lack of dexterity a block of ice as an arm should have. “We do not know what has happened, but the Crown remains with us.”

Frostbite's claw lingered close to the skull ring, the Ring of Rage. “ If this humble servant may speak,  sire .”

“Please.”

“The saviour of us all possesses certain... princely qualities,” Frostbite began. “He is strong, yes. Young, but smart. Wise in some instances, naïve in others. And he has comprehended violence, but never war. It is the cost of war, sire, that Great Phantom has yet to comprehend. His world, though it faces daily libations of blood, enjoys a short memory to go with it. His generation has grown up in relative love and safety.”

“We understand,” Pariah echoed. “There is no war in his world?”

“Not wars across countries, not as much as millennia hence,” Frostbite related. “Minor wars, mainly, far from the continent of his home that many humans call the New World, or, more properly, North America. Though the Crown does obey its possessor, sometimes it follows those who need to be followed, rather than those we want it to crown.”

“Phantom is a man, even ten years ago,” Pariah snorted.

“Not to his kind. He is half-mortal, still, and his elders regarded him as a child,” Frostbite commented. “They regard him as... something like a blank slate. A learning kind, then. He is a man now, of course, but the Phantom you met before and the Phantom you see now are different. Time has made its mark upon him, sire.”

“Perhaps you should be telling that to him. We are sure that he would appreciate the sentiment.”

“Perhaps when he is due to leave,” Frostbite demurred as a new set of bandages were swapped in. “My people have never quite recovered from training him in using his ice powers. A good fighter he may be. Though his aim leaves something to be desired. The wound must be kept clean, and I'm surprised at the lack of physicians at Pariah's Keep.”

“The Ghost Zone's physicians escaped, apparently as a precaution,” Pariah replied. “They will return.”

“Is that... possible?”

“I promised Phantom that they would return,” Pariah answered.

“I see,” Frostbite took the old bandages, throwing them to a crackling torch to burn. “Your Majesty... forgive the impertinence, but I am glad that you hold the Crown still.”

Pariah frowned. “We would have thought that your people would prefer your saviour upon the throne.”

“There are other concerns at stake,” Frostbite reasoned. “Danny Phantom is many things and many flaws, but he is protective of his friends and family, of even his acquaintances. The Crown would have marked him an outcast, even now. Perhaps under softer conditions, one day, but even now it would cost him what he holds dear.”

Pariah nodded, and smiled. “Why tell me this, knowing that we might curse him with it out of spite?”

“Because you want this world, this Ghost Zone, to have worth, far more than for its sacrifice,” Frostbite simply answered.

“We are an old king, long past our prime. It should be time to abdicate already.”

“You stand fast?”

Pariah paused. “We... would rather not have nearly a century of work go to waste. Until the Crown is unearthed, there is no imminent threat between Phantom and us.”

“And should it is destroyed?”

“We would know, were it destroyed, and then your worries would be over,” Pariah replied. “The ring might be the seal of this world, but the actual information is controlled by those who wear the crown.”

“Uneasy lies the head that wears it,” Frostbite replied, mopping up part of the spilled ectoplasm.

“And uneasy more are the subjects under it,” Pariah continued. “You may go.”

Frostbite nodded, beginning to back away.

“On this day, Pariah Dark owes the Far Frozen a debt in services,” Pariah stated, very clearly. “You have nothing to fear from us.”

Frostbite walked out, head high.

* * *

The medics of the Far Frozen were typical of their species, but it was the first time Danny had seen the hulking snow monsters shy far away from the medical facility in a cave that Pariah was currently in. “What's with them?”

Frostbite, still carrying a basin, walked out. “Ah, Great One.”

“Frostbite,” Danny shifted. “Erm, sorry about arriving on your doorstep with the enemy of all ghosts. I just... didn't know how to act.”

“Indeed, Great One. My people have never faced the kings of ghosts directly in combat; it is their boundless curiosity that drives them to see the Ghost King. It is also wariness.” Frostbite sounded pensive as the two ghosts walked into another cave system, this time for Frostbite to dispose of the basin. “I do confess myself curious as to your change of attitude towards Pariah Dark.”

“Well... we spoke. More than one or two sentences,” Danny considered. “Without the prospect of a fight, or anyone throwing the first stone. He put aside that I was the one who defeated him and trapped him back inside the Sarcophagus. I put aside that he was terrorising ghosts. He's trying to set up a new housing scheme or something, and I can't really find it in myself to blast him when he's essentially rebuilding houses for ghosts.”

“Yes, the extensions upon Pariah's Keep,” Frostbite mused. “I have heard rumours from passing spectres, that it was merely an effort to expand his influence. If completed, Pariah's Keep would become a castle town. The first large ghost settlement of its kind since the wars.”

“Wars?” Danny perked up.

“The Ghost Zone and the human world share a deep connection,” Frostbite related. “By which, I mean that your human world tells of stories similar to us, and ghosts have been mistaken for other creatures of the supernatural at one time or another.”

“Really?”

“You should have Wulf mention an altercation with a woman wearing a red cap,” Frostbite suggested.

Danny crossed his legs tighter. He then uncrossed then, and crossed them again. “That... sounds gross.”

“And, as ghostly events reflect human events, so do human events reflect ghostly events,” Frostbite commented. “The Christmas truce, for example. Its roots are far older, but the agreement was revived in the year you humans call 1914.”

“Nineteen four- ouch,” Danny winced.

“Indeed. _Ouch_ ,” Frostbite related. “You may take the Ghost King back.”

“Erm... right,” Danny nodded. “Thanks, Frostbite. I thought you might not help, for a second.”

“It is a favour,” Frostbite answered. “And our creed. First, do no harm.”

“... oh,” Danny looked down to hard-packed ground. “I... should probably take Pariah back. Erm... Frostbite, do you know why he talks in the plural?”

“The principle of the royal we, Great One,” Frostbite answered. “I suppose it emphasises his style of office, but I suppose it could also refer to the meaning behind the title King of all Ghosts, compared to King of the Ghost Zone. I cannot perceive the hearts of ghosts, Great One.”

“Thanks. I just wanted to check that Pariah hasn't gone cuckoo or anything.” Danny nodded.

“A warning, Great One,” Frostbite proposed. “We gave Pariah Dark quite a bit of the good ectohol.”

“I'm not driving a drunk ghost-”

* * *

“-back,” Danny finished lamely, as the Specter Speeder made its slow, hardly shaking and smooth ride through the space of the Ghost Zone, towards Pariah's Keep.

Leaving Auto-Jack on, Danny crossed his arms. “What are you doing behind, anyway?”

“Waiting for the poison.”

“Poison?” Danny echoed incredulously. “ _Excuse_ me?”

“The late Queen Asmodeus was very fond of this method,” Pariah related, otherwise rather the silent drunk. “Giving hope, and then taking it away. Have you ever experienced a Blood Blossom?”

“Erm, yeah,” Danny agreed, nonplussed. “Did... you eat it?”

“I did not. I have seen battalions suffer from Blood Blossoms as their last meal. And she would force them to eat, and eat... and, in the case of her dearest enemy, she made him eat until he burst,” Pariah Dark sighed, shifting to a more comfortable position. “I will face the end of my afterlife with calm.”

“Come _on_ ,” Danny face-palmed. “I didn't poison you. _Frostbite_ didn't poison you. Nobody is poisoning anybody. Nobody is trapping anyone in a sarcophagus. In fact, I propose a truce. Truce. Ceasefire. Neither of us throw the first punch, neither of us offends, I don't make jokes about coffins, and you don't try to kill me.” He paused, and added, “again.”

“Yes.” The answer was flat. “We carry out my studies to divine the location of the Crown in between planning the newest urban renewal project in the Ghost Zone. We shall not fight until our next quarrel, and we owe you at least that much.”

“I'm sorry,” Danny blurted. “For... everything.”

“Such eloquence, Phantom. We can certainly see how you were able to inspire the spectral masses. Tyranny is often a more reliable method of rule than popular consent.”

“You know what I'm talking about,” Danny scowled at the rear-view camera screen. “I'm not the one who got trapped in a stone coffin 'cause everyone was afraid of him. I promised some... people, that I wouldn't do that.”

“Indeed? We assumed that the promises was just something you spoke to help you with the various dilemmas inspired in your afterlife.”

Danny turned his head to regard the Ghost King. Not for the first time – and probably not the last – he had no idea what Pariah Dark was trying to say, and wasn't entirely sure that he wanted to know. “So... you're not going to kill me?”

“'Twas our intention to scare you, somewhat. Not today.”

“You jumped me!” Danny accused.

“You are now aware of what we are capable of doing, to those who wrong us. There are not many we care to warn, Phantom.”

“You're mad.” Danny rubbed his chest. “I'm going to bruise,” he whined.

“However shall you recover,” said the Ghost King in the most deadpan voice this side of the Ghost Zone.

“Sarcasm, nice,” Danny mumbled. “My life is now trading barbs with- ah!”

The last exclamation was addressed to the ghost ship floating past the Speeder, with Youngblood's loud voice shouting something about finding himself back here. Further examination revealed that the sector of the Ghost Zone they were in was populated once more, by rather unhappy ghosts.

“They're... back?” Danny blinked, still watching. “How? When?”

“Noon,” Pariah answered.

“Erm... you were with me,” Danny pointed out. “At the Far Frozen.”

“Indeed we were. I have the bandages to prove it.”

“...Fright Knight?”

“The former Fright Knight has been released from his service to the Crown for high treason,” Pariah Dark calmly answered.

“You're... taking this awfully calm,” Danny reasoned.

“So we are.”

“Your minions?”

“There are only so many skeletons I can commandeer at a time, Phantom.”

“Then how did they get back?! The portal's on lockdown from one side!” Danny shuddered as blue mist erupted from his mouth and his breath turned cold.

“I got them back.”

“You were with me!”

“Exercising what remnant of the Crown's power I hold without it physically present does not actually require my presence.”

“The Crown's power?” Danny echoed.

“The Crown of Fire grants the power to decide boundaries, including ingress and egress,” Pariah reminded him. “The King of all Ghosts acts as the perpetual jailer of its citizens, forbidding them entrance into the world of mortals. He also has the power to forcibly relocate ghosts within both worlds, as long as he is conscious of their presence. I am called Pariah for this reason; for I am a pariah amongst ghosts, their eternal jailer.”

Danny put his face in his hands, unsure of how to think, reply, or even act. It was probably fortunate that the cannonball came to start shooting the Speeder.

It gave him a distraction from the enigma of Pariah Dark, all the way back. That was good.


	7. Clementia

In the course of what could be termed the acquaintanceship of the Ghost Zone's two most powerful ghosts, there was this time Danny Phantom got Pariah's Keep fire-bombed.

We seem to be missing the context.

Of course many things about their meeting weren't up to expectations; civil discussion, emotional maturity, no instant dismissal, acknowledgement of each other's mistakes, affable friction rather than instant disagreement borne of not killing each other. It was the kind of crazy no one has medication for. It was a ticking bomb, either of awe or of terrible fear; the only chance was to run the hell away and never look back.

It started with the Guys in White.

* * *

Spring was passing into summer over Amity Park, and with it passed, too, the examination season. Summer vacation was a good time for Danny, though he was carting heavy boxes of books while carrying on a conversation with Samantha Manson, currently in New York, New York.

“ _Danny, focus!_ ”

“I know, Sam,” Danny spoke into the Fenton Phones rigged to his cellphone. “You're talking about something in what, Vietnam?”

“ _Cambodia,_ ” Samantha Manson snarled back at him. “ _Look,_ _murder by ghost is not good, especially since the only other known cases of ghost violence_ _erupted across the Pacific._ _This is an international matter, Danny!_ ”

“So was the Disasteroid.”

“ _Ten years, now, big difference,”_ Sam huffed. “ _Not that the victim didn't have a point, but those poor women and children in the factory were caught in the crossfire._ _We're not only facing legal issues, but accountability issues. Some officials are blabbing that_ _ghosts shouldn't hold people accountable from beyond the grave._ ”

“Sam, you said it yourself before. These are people who didn't face justice in life, so why can't they get it in death?” Danny asked. “I think it's good. Gives people the need to be accountable.”

“ _People are now saying that you need to be held accountable for the crimes of ghosts, Danny,_ ” Sam changed the subject.

“What? That's crazy!” Danny scoffed, packing up a box of heavy books. “I'm only half-ghost!”

“ _You're also the only ghost freely available for prosecution,_ ” Sam pointed out. “ _Look, the Ghost Zone has its own legal system, right? Can't you persuade Walker to, you know, try and keep order?_ ”

“Walker's got no power this side of the fabric of reality, otherwise I’ll be serving my sentence in jail with nine hundred and ninety more to go,” Danny scoffed. “What d'you want me to do, find the ghost of a kid and drag her back into the Ghost Zone? If you haven't noticed, I'm in America.”

“ _You can use the World Network._ ”

“There's an experimental shield around it,” Danny scowled. “And it leads nowhere near Cambodia. How about I drop by during the weekend, see if there's anything I can do? Right now I got a ghost exodus to mediate and loads of ghosts from going stir-crazy from panic.”

“ _Pariah Dark?_ ” Sam's voice turned worried. “ _Danny, he moved the whole city to the Ghost Zone, remember?_ _Y_ _ou're_ mediating _with him?!_ ”

“He's a bit like Pandora,” Danny frowned. “And I think he's... mellowed.”

“ _Danny,_ ” Sam cautioned. “ _It's not that I don't trust you. I don't trust him. Pariah Dark_ _and those like him always_ _have_ _an agenda._ _Why d_ _o_ _you think_ _he still calls himself the Ghost King even though the Observants rule?_ ”

“Dunno, habit?” Danny shrugged. “Sam, I'm preparing to enter the Zone now. Maybe that Cambodian ghost had a lair, a friend, something. And I'll see if maybe there's some archaic ghost law that keeps ghosts from killing people.”

“ _You do that,_ ” Sam admitted. “ _But remember, subtlety is needed here._ ”

“See you, Sam.”

“ _Bye, Danny._ ”

Launching the Specter Speeder into the Ghost Zone was like stepping into another world. That is, a different geography than the usual Ghost Zone. For one thing, the landmasses and islands had been linked somewhat by debris acting as bridges, and Pariah's Keep had migrated to somewhere closer to the Fenton portal, as well as grown in shape; the bailey was filled with miniature buildings, now bustling with ghostly activity.

“Hey, dipstick!” Ember hollered at him. “What's the deal with that tin can? You've been visiting the Ghost King, haven't you?”

The speakers on the Specter Speeder opened as Danny spoke. “Yes, I have!”

“Any idea what's gonna happen to us now, baby-pop?!” the ghostly musician hollered back.

“Dunno. Just... well, keep going,” Danny answered as the Specter Speeder went on its own way to Pariah's Keep.

Danny's green eyes narrowed as the gates of Pariah's Keep came into view, bereft of its usual battalion of armoured skeletons to stand guard. His suspicions deepened as scorch marks unseen before made themselves apparent on the palisade, on the grassy patches around the Keep, and by the portcullis, the battlements pitted with something that looked like acid. A quiet sense of stillness pervaded the location as Danny parked the Specter Speeder away from sight and approached it, floating. A raven cawed in passing; Danny jumped.

“What happened...?” the halfa continued floating towards the gloom of Pariah's Keep, narrowly missing the shot of ectoplasm aimed at his head.

Danny barely had time to duck behind a cypress tree. “Whoa! Okay, not a good idea. Being attacked, not good idea!”

“It's the brat Phantom,” a familiar officious voice reported quietly from some distance away, enough to filter through Danny's Fenton Phones. “He's in cahoots with the Ghost King.”

“The Guys in White,” Danny commented, green eyes narrowing. “How'd they get in?”

Danny ducked out in a roll, shooting a finger-beam towards the white-clothed operative – expected – who dodged. The halfa took to floating, legs snapping into a tail for speed as he flew towards the ruined entrance. Cujo's yip threw a distraction, one that called Danny towards a cavernous room, like a mead hall Danny had discussed beforehand in class.

A long table broke into splinters as a white blur was hurled towards it. “You seem to have things under control,” Danny commented to no one in particular, watching the remaining operative nearly wet himself when faced with the fury of Pariah Dark.

“By the a- authority invested upon t- the Guys in White, for the crime of negligence of obligations, we of the GIW p- pronounce you under f- federal arrest,” the operative stuttered.

“By which authority?” The growl that issued seemed to come from the depths of the most terrible afterlife.

“T- The United States of America, in accordance with humanity's laws.”

Pariah Dark seemed to swell with indignation. “I do not recognise your authority,” he spat. “Begone, lest you overstay your welcome and become a permanent occupant.”

In answer, the agent cocked his gun, facing a morning-star crashing down to topple him. The spiked mace was swung once more, and the agent barely escaped the ghostly weapon.

“DID YOU NOT HEAR ME?!” Pariah Dark roared. It had the power to not only quell most signs of defiance, but also bring forth the stench of urea in the confines of the mead hall. The Keep fairly shook with the boom of his voice.

“I do not recognise this United States of America,” Pariah continued, using his indoor voice. “I do not know of what obligation I have neglected by choice. I do not recognise your authority. Begone, for I shall slay you where you stand if you refuse.”

“You're coming with us for justice, ghost,” the agent snarled. “And experiments. Lots of really, really painful experiments. You will face human justice for the crimes of ghosts this day, ghost scum.”

“I am a ghost,” Pariah retorted. “Hath not a ghost eyes? Hath not a ghost hands, organs, dimensions, sense, affections, passions? Fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer, as a human is? If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die? And if you wrong us, shall we not… revenge? If we are like you in the rest, we will resemble you in that. Thou call'dst me scum afore thou hadst cause; yet, since I am scum...”

Danny swallowed. _The Merchant of Venice_  might not be a favourite of Lancer's teaching materials, but Shylock's tirade and malevolence struck true, be it recited by a Jewish moneylender or by an angry king.

“...beware my fangs.”

Conflagrations unfolded before the Ghost King.

“Throw anti-ghost grenade, Big Bang!” the operative shouted. A canister rolled, Danny blinking at the O2 symbol printed upon it before he dodged, the canister exploding to add fuel to Pariah's fire.

“Stop it!” Danny yelled. “It's oxygen! You're going to burn the castle down!”

Pariah Dark gave a wordless cry of rage, a twister of power that hounded the retreating agents of the GIW outside and away from the Ghost Zone, up into ghostly space and away from Pariah's Keep. Their portal, the man-made portal borrowed from the research of Vlad Masters/Plasmius, shattered as green fires surrounded it, bursting from mid-space like the births of stars.

The operatives dived for it.

The green fire consumed the portal, leaving blank concrete before the eyes of horrified scientists in the human world as they watched their compatriots disappear forever into the spectral world.

It left two white-suited men floating in the heart of enemy territory. It left two men vulnerable to the whims of passing spectres.

* * *

Back at Pariah's Keep, acid-green flame burned down, low and long by the powers of the Ghost King. Flames writhed, for a moment, before the fires died as quickly as it had erupted.

“How did the humans manage to enter?” the question was posed quite normally, as if homicidal rage had not been present earlier.

“They probably stole Vlad's portal,” Danny commented. “Guess I gotta go destroy it.”

“No need. I already have,” Pariah resigned himself to regarding the throne room.

For the first time, Danny noted the richer than normal brocade hangings, the polish on the furniture, the piles of writing instruments and books, now charred beyond recognition or burned to a crisp. “Erm... were you conducting something?”

“My dream is to assemble the thing within the Ghost Zone.”

“Thing? What thing?”

Pariah frowned. “A group of chieftains, lawspeakers and kings that come together to discuss the problems they face, conduct treaties, etcetera.”

Danny frowned. “You mean... a parliament?”

“Yes. A parliament,” Pariah frowned. “I suppose that is the modern parlance.”

“You?” the halfa mouthed. “A parliament? _**You**_? I thought... you were this tyrant figure thing! Right?! And the Observants! I thought they're the parliament!”

“Even tyrants must open parliament, once their base of power had been established,” Pariah reasoned. “The Observants have never been appointed by the people they rule. Only the apathy of ghosts give them political will over the lesser spirits. The thing is an assembly of the people who actually run things; the princes and princesses, dukes and duchesses... the chieftains and gentry and whatnot of the ghost world. I intended it as a means to keep tabs on my kingdom. I suppose what you call democracy was a side-effect... I suppose the Observants did not want to lose the tenuous grip on power they held after I took the throne.”

“You wanted... to assemble parliament?” Danny emphasised, green eyes wide. “ _You_?”

Pariah shook his head. “With a functioning parliament, I had hoped that no one would need the Crown anymore. I suppose I'm just an idiot who has chased after the same dream for centuries. Even if I built the thingstead here, I suppose no one would ever bring their problems here.”

“Parliament? You?” Danny emphasised.

“Why so surprised?”

“'Cause... you're a tyrant!” Danny accused.

“The Observants, or Witenagemot, were originally my advisors,” Pariah Dark argued. “What is your point?”

“You're a tyrant!” Danny shook his head. “This makes no sense!”

“...As I understand, tyrant refers to someone who came to power by unconventional means,” Pariah finally said. “Well, as the first appointed king rather than one who won by right of conquest, am I not a tyrant?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not actually sure how to deal with ghosts and the issue of accountability. I mean, death usually includes the condition that the victim would be unable to prosecute from beyond the grave, thus the possibility of the perpetrator getting away scot-free is real. So, assuming that the victim comes back as a ghost to haunt their murderer, where would this put the legal status of the dying declaration? Where would accountability start and end – with the murderer's death? Also, in a case where the perpetrator is unclear, the situation has a chance of escalating towards serial killing by ghost.
> 
> Sam is in Columbia University, NY. I'm not sure how she'd fit in an Ivy League university, but considering her wealth and social activist tendencies in individuality during high school, I thought Sam might choose to go to Columbia. Tell me what you think!  
> As for Danny... I have no idea what stand Danny would take. On one hand it's ghostly violence against humans; on the other hand Danny recognises that this violence is likely to be the only form of justice the ghost would get in such a situation, and I find Danny more likely to empathise with the victim despite the situation. This ties in with the underlying platform within the plot here, since a representative of the entire race of ghosts could likely be held legally accountable, and also relates to how humans would react given such a situation in continuity.
> 
> Luke Danger discussed the worldwide steel network in Phantom Planet in his fic A New World Network, which he dubbed as the Ghost Control Network (GCN). One thing about this network was the ability of ghosts to phase through it to any location on the planet, and also for Technus to gain theoretical control over the world using it. Needless to say, the concept throws global governance a curve-ball that breaks multiple national boundaries by theoretical consent – after all, humans built the world network. I know some writers choose to ignore Phantom Planet altogether, but the implications are rather staggering.


	8. Cupio dissolvi

Danny had no idea what to think. Sure, it made a hideous amount of sense, but...

“You... aren't exactly evil.” The revelation did not bode well. “We... should discuss this.”

Danny would have laughed at himself from ten years ago, now trying to reason with Pariah Dark rather than beat the elder ghost into a pulp. Unfortunately, no other denizen of the Ghost Zone was willing to side with him, preferring instead to check out the relatively new attachments to Pariah's Keep. Any attempt to fight would result in Danny becoming a smear of ectoplasm on the stone floor of the recently fire-bombed throne room.

“We believe certain values must have changed,” Pariah reflected, walking about as the throne room began to rearrange itself, blackened panels paling to wood and the flagstones cleaning themselves of soot and burns. He sounded... not dismissive, but reflective. “No one could be fifty, alive and king without snapping or killing in our day. Yet it is interesting that you believe that we would choose _you_ to confide into.”

Danny scowled. “Yeah, well... I'm the only ghost you see around here. And you secretly like me here.”

“Like we would love moss on the castle walls,” Pariah agreed. “Or for Undergrowth to remain within the Keep on an extended stay.”

“The point,” Danny stubbornly continued, “is that we could... work something out.”

Pariah nodded. “That implies that you have something to offer.”

“I can go into the human world and locate the Crown of Fire,” Danny pointed out.

“There is that,” Pariah acknowledged. “But any ghost under our employ can do the same thing.”

“Any ghost under your employ would face active resistance from experienced ghost hunters,” Danny rebutted. “Look... I have better rep than most of you guys. Well... all of you guys, really, but the point is that I can search for the Crown a lot easier than anything you send, and more quietly.”

“Acknowledged,” Pariah agreed. “The side effect being the distancing of humans from ghosts.”

Danny paused. “Yeah, you're right. Makes my job easier... somewhat.”

“There still remains, however small, the propensity of betrayal,” Pariah described, finally moving to stand before the Dark Throne such that the dimness gave him an extra malevolence. “We used to be enemies, and we remain ambivalent to the temporary ceasefire. We do not know your aims, or if your stated motives are as simple as described. There is no guarantee that you will do this right. Should it fail, we hold the most stakes to lose, simply by placing the legitimacy of the throne into the hands of a young, bare-trained ghost, albeit a skilled ghost.”

“...that's a no, right?” Danny muttered.

“Simply put, we have no reason to trust this offer you place before us,” Pariah concluded, though the lines on his face relaxed. “We shall have to clean the rest of our throne room now. Cujo, please see to Phantom.”

The spectral dog lolled its tongue, earning itself a pat to the head as Danny stared at the retreating King. The halfa regarded the spectral puppy. “He totally brushed me off, didn't he?”

Ghost and dog floated out, Danny stopping only for a moment to watch the newly-dubbed Ghost Town bustling. By human standards, it was a village, and yet normal villages were not entirely populated by ghosts going about their daily life, though certain congregations were rather disturbing, like Skulker's open use of hunting equipment to string up innocent spectres as pets. The relative order of the place was... chilling. Very chilling, since no ghost was leaping out to attack Danny.

The relative peace was quickly explained as Danny finished his stroll around, and approached the large noticeboard at the far side of the gates to Pariah's Keep. Without going into too much detail over the copperplate printing and signature, plus Ring-embedded stamp, it pretty much detailed a fair list of rules and regulations, surprisingly normal and rational. Plus the fact that no fight was to be conducted in Ghost Town, airspace or sub-space or otherwise for a fair bit. 'Fair bit' explicitly defined by 'the distance of one second of flight before We roast you'. Several scratches, chars and stains littered the heavy-looking material.

Danny watched for a brief moment as the Lunch Lady flung an entire ham at the list, the ham making a splat before it fell to the ground. Stray lasers and ecto-rays shot at it, though no ghost tried to enter Pariah's Keep.

At least, not until Walker tossed a snivelling ghost to the gates, and the skeleton garrison arrested him and marched the ghost in. A small crowd formed before the guards came back out with the pale-as-milk ghost.

“Forced eviction of ghosts,” the guard said, loud enough to carry through the crowd. “Confined to stocks, sunrise to sundown for five days. Property to be redistributed by the Crown.”

“Dear Spirits, yes,” Walker muttered, dragging the rather quiet ghost towards a set of old-fashioned stocks. Danny was impressed; Walker's penalties were far harsher than anything handed out by the Throne. Even if stocks were medieval...

Like Pariah's idea of parliament. But parliament was pretty forward, so it couldn't be all bad...

Watching the crowd of ghosts disperse, Danny could not help but feel that parliament was a long way in the making if no one was approaching.

* * *

“Was Pariah Dark always bad?”

The trio of Clockwork, Nocturne, and Pandora had been joined by Vortex, who gave the Time Ghost a forlorn look.

“Bad is a point of view,” Clockwork related. “You don't remember being one of the seven, Vortex, but he understood somewhat.”

“Much diminished,” Pandora noted.

“Which of us are not?” Clockwork reasoned as he aged. “Nocturne?”

“I will help, should the Sarcophagus be rebuilt,” the ghost of dreams answered. “But I do not remember being one of the seven, as you claim.”

“Because you aren't,” Clockwork answered. “Very few of the original Ancients remain, and even then no one can identify them, except Pariah Dark. Remnants do exist; parts of those seven live on in the Ghost Zone. And sometimes, they grow strong enough to manifest as avatars.”

“The civil wars that tore across the Ghost Zone was... frightening,” Pandora shuddered. “Pariah Dark was cruel and ruthless, but he instituted civil law over the Zone, appointed an officer, and even chose the members of the Witenagemot, the Observants, as advisors. The deadline loomed ever closer, though, and we believed the lies the Observants fed us. We created the prison to keep Pariah as King... but at a high cost.”

“We are here to play a role now,” Clockwork told them. “Yes, we must.”

As if on cue, the door began rumbling. “Clockwork! Are you in?”

The doors swung open to admit Danny.

“Good morrow, Daniel,” Clockwork imparted.

“Oh, hello,” Pandora waved.

“Guys,” Danny acknowledged. “Erm, I need-”

“Information of the Observants, or the Witenagemot,” Clockwork interrupted. “Why Pariah Dark called himself a tyrant. Amongst many things.”

“...right, ghost of time,” Danny realised. “Yes.”

“First, you might want to consider how a chaotic species like ghosts ever managed to form a functioning society,” Clockwork held up one finger as he de-aged to a baby. “Second, the rules that govern the Ghost Zone, up to and including the law that Walker imparts. Third, the nature of the Ghost Zone, that all matter within the Zone is composed of ectoplasm and is formed by its quintessence-like properties.”

“So... this is one of those things where I'm talking to myself, with you guys helping along,” Danny sighed in resignation.

“Quite,” Nocturne acknowledged.

“Little halfa,” Vortex mocked. “Let's see if that brain of yours doesn't implode first.”

“That's rich, coming from a guy who's just hot air,” Danny rebutted. “Erm, first... well, they... get together? Ghosts... more or less get along?”

“And they live in fear of the common consequences derived from breaking the laws,” Clockwork pointed out.

“So Pariah Dark formed... ghost society?”

“It's amazing how a common, all-powerful enemy unites ghosts,” Pandora observed, a touch dark. “Which leads to the second question: rules.”

“Well, rules exist to create order,” Danny reasoned. “But... there's no order here.”

“Order exists,” Clockwork admonished. “Understaffed Walker might be, the ghost sheriff is an institution of the law. You of all people should know that breaking the law has consequences, no matter how right the intention.”

Danny scowled at the reminder. “Right... the one day I realise that I need to cut Walker a break, will be when I start living here permanently. So... Pariah united the Ghost Zone by basically being himself, and making an enemy of nearly every ghost. Plus, he actually introduced laws, or reinforced them. Which is not so bad, until he turned into a tyrant.”

“What you see as tyrannical, is the natural order of things,” Nocturne interjected. “Which brings up the third point: the Ghost Zone's nature.”

At this, Vortex cackled, conjuring a mini-typhoon. “Hey, ever wondered where these came from? Or Nocturne's bedsheets? Or anything in the Ghost Zone? Or even the floating islands where we build, say, nearly every building in the Ghost Zone?”

“Here we have to explain the nature of ectoplasm,” Clockwork reached over, slapping vortex in the metaphorical skull. “Daniel?”

“Erm...” Danny swallowed. “Ectoplasm is... it can act as an energy source... and it's physical?”

“And all matter – solid, liquid, gaseous or any form – in the Zone is composed of ectoplasm,” Pandora finished for him. Now, deary, this might get rather complex, but then try to consider ectoplasm as ectoplasm as matter that can change its shape based on certain mental instructions. For example...”

Green energy shimmered in her hand, before forming into a trident that she wielded expertly with a “Ha!”

“Following this paradigm, any ectoplasm could be transformed into a weapon, a minion, a spectre...” she continued. “The quintessence-esque properties of ectoplasm means that it could take any property, all depending on the form decided by its own autonomy or by user input. That is how extremely powerful ghosts summon and form their armies, and how Pariah forms his skeletal army. Yet, consider, _why_ does the ectoplasm that forms the ground, _remain_ the ground?”

“Because someone decided it so,” Danny automatically replied, before his eyes widened. “You mean...?”

“I suggest you think long and hard, exactly where did the extra land around Pariah's Keep come from,” Nocturne snickered as Danny went paler than a ghost, were it possible.

“He formed the land?” Danny mouthed. “What? We're not talking about Pariah Dark, are we? That's not the Ghost King, that's a freaking god we're talking about now!”

“Not exactly,” Clockwork admonished. “Close enough, though. Queen Asmodeus also went by the name of Semiramis amongst ghosts.”

“What?” Danny blinked.

“Never mind,” Clockwork sounded resigned as he held up a watch, the gears exposed within to show everything ticking. “You were never a history buff... Right now, the Crown of Fire is out of circulation, which presents a challenge should Pariah Dark die.”

“He won't-” Danny thought back to the gashes on Pariah's arm, stark and strong. “Okay, I see. What happens then?”

Clockwork dropped the watch as he aged, back arching down. It smashed with a crash, the gears falling out along with the hands, bits and other pieces within to lie on the floor, forlorn and alone. Danny drew a breath, hardly daring to believe that the ghost of time had just defaced one of his own timepieces.

“Should Pariah Dark die, and the Crown and Ring lost,” Clockwork imparted with the certainty of someone who embodied Laplace's demon in its full knowledge, though the demon could be a tricky child, a tricky man, and a tricky old codger at any moment, “the Ghost Zone shall die, that will be the cost. The Zone and your world are one and the same; should one be lost, it's the end of the game.”

A gear shattered as Danny stepped back from the sheer omen. “...what game?”

“The game of life, silly,” Vortex chided. “Not much of a loss, frankly.”

“Without user input, the Ghost Zone shall fall back into its state of natural, fully ectoplasmic chaos,” Clockwork continued as he went back to being a child. “Since most ghosts build their lairs, their existence, perhaps nearly everything, upon the basic template provided by the Crowned monarch, the disruption of that template would create something like... well, a slow decay. It might not happen soon; it would not happen for too long. But, it will happen, and the demises of both worlds shall become certain.”

“Are you using computer terms to describe – in rather horrifying detail, might I add – what happens if I don't somehow hunt the Crown of Fire back in the human world and clonk the thing back on Pariah's head?” Danny asked incredulously.

“Well, usually we'd use the Fisher King metaphor, but this one seemed more current,” Pandora chirped. “Well, technically you defeated Pariah before...”

“There are two choices, really,” Clockwork mused. “You can crown the King again... or you can crown yourself and take the throne. Either choice is possible.”

“But the Ghost King can never leave the Zone,” Danny shook his head. “That's no choice at all.”

“The choice lies in whether you can accept permanent exile from your home world, constant loneliness and paranoia, assassinations and disgust, neglect and hatred, from every ghost in this dimension, all the while doing a thankless but necessary job of regulating the rifts and portals between worlds with the only reward being certain death once the Crown is handed over, in exchange for near-absolute power over the Ghost Zone, but being unable to truly ever change anything,” Clockwork articulated. “It is a hard choice, Daniel, but not a lack of choice on either part. Never forget that.”

* * *

With the simple consideration that a. Vlad had the Crown last, b. Vlad never let go of ghost-made artefacts, and c. the GIW confiscated everything of Vlad's during the Disasteroid, the location of the symbol of ghost monarchy was relatively easy to narrow down. By sundown, the Amity Park news were reporting on Phantom's breaking and entering of the GIW evidence locker, and Danny was in the Ghost Zone with flaming Crown in tow.

Pariah was reading again, as the Crown's green tint spread in the throne room. He set the scrolls and codices aside to consider Danny's slight form, bearing the Crown of Fire aloft in gloved hands. One heavy green eye, set into a heavily wrinkled face, regarded the crown and its keeper.

“I brought it back for you,” Danny confessed, panting. “It's heavy, you know. How'd you keep wearing the thing?”

“We believe it is yours,” Pariah softly replied.

Half-kneeling, Danny held it out indelicately. “Well? It's heavy.”

The flame brightened as Pariah walked over to receive it, holding the crown in his large hands while staring down to Danny with a look.

“We could put it on you,” he stated, very neutrally.

Danny tensed.

“With the current conditions of the Duello Code, you've certainly earned it,” Pariah continued. “And you can certainly find an advisor. It would hurt you far more than any other revenge we could devise, watching you watch your world from afar but never be able to return again. It would hurt you, how the many ghosts and spectres would begin to despise you as the reason for their being here. It's a very tempting thought. You would also become a tyrant; the first halfa to be unwillingly made King of All Ghosts.”

His eyes never leaving the Crown, Danny made what sounded like a dry sob.

“Why shouldn't we just crown you here, escaping to a place where your revenge cannot follow while you suffer?” Pariah questioned, sounding truly curious.

“Because... recognition does not equate to forgiveness,” Danny replied, still getting ready to fight if it came down to Pariah trying to force the Crown onto his head. “But you're just an idiot who's chased the same dream for centuries, haven't you?”

“That doesn't exactly help your case,” Pariah gave a snort. He considered the Crown in his hands, which gave a flare of verdant fire. “It is heavy, because there are two steps to becoming King. One is to defeat the previous King; a physical challenge that can be imparted to others. The other is putting on the Crown, and with it accepting every single burden of kingship and power. There is knowledge implied, and choice. Amongst that knowledge and choice, what exactly do you hope to gain by handing this back to me?”

“Peace,” Danny sighed. “You said something about parliament.”

“The thing,” Pariah acknowledged.

“In a pinch, I would accept the choice. With time and choice, I wouldn't have,” Danny shook his head. “The ghosts deserve more than me. Someone set me up to realise this, because I never thought of what it must be like to really hold power. So you will gain power, and the human world will gain peace.”

Pariah gave him a long, considering look. “How very selfless of you.”

“Makes my job easier,” Danny made a face.

“You realise, of course,” Pariah added, “that this means that the onus of acting under Crown authority to fulfil the plan comes into action. Your job scope has increased instead.”

“Dude,” Danny laughed, “if it means that the Crown gets nowhere near me, I'm in.”

Then his face turned serious. “Let's face it. I'm not kingly material, whatever you think. The Observants, well, their afterlives can rot for what they did, and frankly I think you're doing a fairly good job. The way to continue doing that job is to make sure someone tells you no when everyone tells you yes. And, if you wear it, I'm still right here and you can take your revenge, if you want.”

Pariah reflected, before smirking. “I see.”

The Crown burst into green flame, fully and without pretence, with enough power to shake the Keep as Pariah Dark crowned himself before the Dark Throne. The King of All Ghosts then proceeded to drop a giant codex onto the fallen Phantom, with a single snarl:

“Now, let's get down to work.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The quintessence-esque properties of ectoplasm were brought up on the Danny Phantom Wiki, also detailing that 'the animating principle of quintessence is that it's able to animate inanimate objects.' Make of that what you will. The concept of programmable matter I was inspired by in Transformers: Age of Extinction; awesome, really.
> 
> The Fisher King metaphor is basically 'the king and his land are one' taken to a disturbing extreme, which is the basic premise explored in the ongoing fanfic 'King of Clubs' by DemiSpy.  
> Epilogue to come soon!


	9. Epilogue: Isle of the Dead

The law of the Ghost Zone was generally reinforced by Walker. It meant that the Ghost Sheriff would probably have run screaming for the hills, if not for his duties or the fact that Pariah Dark could locate him.

It also meant that Walker spotted Danny, the halfa pulling tome after tome to pore over.

“Hello, boy.”

“Walker,” Danny acknowledged. “Hi.”

He stopped. “I was summoned by Pariah Dark.”

“Yeah,” Danny agreed, pulling out more books. “He's out getting more members for the thingstead, whatever that is.”

“Pariah Dark is calling for a rehashing of all laws?” Walker perked up.

“That's what it meant? I thought it was just a parliament!”

“Law-speakers, or lawyers, were a thing in the Ghost Zone,” Walker derided, rising as Pariah Dark strode in. “Ghost King.”

“Rise, Sheriff,” Pariah rumbled, the Crown of Fire crackling. “Daniel Phantom, the law code?”

“We're going to need a team of lawyers,” Danny moaned. “I'm so glad it not mine anymore.”

“Until the next revolution, I dare say,” Pariah mused. “I believe ghosts would prefer a non-existent monarchy.”

This may seem like nothing, save for three mortal enemies beginning to sit down to talk about their plans for the new world's government. There were plans. Plans to create a new world. They might suffer, they might be in pain, but they were on their way. Such was the way of the Ghost Zone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fini.
> 
> To be Continued...?


End file.
